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Boos Hog

On a starry night in 1985, on the feast of Immaculate Conception, in a corrupt little hamlet called District of Columbia, in the tumult of a Jesus and Mary Chain show, a disillusioned young woman met a disillusioned young man. He was new in town. She had been around town. Twice.

Jon Spencer was an Ivy League drop out, eager to seduce the wicked with his groovy-hate-fuck collective, Pussy Galore. Cristina Martinez was a recently released prisoner of an all-girl Catholic high school turned on full-throttle to anything other than that. Leaving reason behind, they ran away to New York City where she joined his Pussy Galore as the third guitar player. It quickly became evident that she was far too bossy for that bunch. So she started her own.

1989. Enter Boss Hog. Called to action for a last-minute replacement at CBGB's, Cristina assembled a troupe of rag-tag superstars from members of Pussy Galore, the Honeymoon Killers, and Unsane.

The music was primitive and fast with a dirty groove that tugged and pulled like a deadly undertow. Cristina wailing through a lurid smile. The first show lasted 15 minutes.

The initial line-up was soon fractured due to constant bickering, occasionally spilling over into violence. Boss Hog became a rotating cast of misunderstood misfits -- very angry, very volatile. The perfect medium to express their rage, their confusion, their warped sense of humor, their extraordinary love of music. Numerous records, numerous labels, and worldwide success followed.

Eventually they found permanent henchmen -- German film student Jens Jurgensen on bass, and Lower East Side punk-rock ingé'8enue Hollis Queens behind the drums. In 1993, they recorded Girl + which brought them to the promised land of critical acclaim and marked artistic growth. Two years later they recorded Boss Hog for DGC records and added the suave luster of Mark Boyce on keyboards. Their final assault was waged with the shocking Whiteout -- a tour de force of sex, nasty riffs, and delicious hooks.

Now they are back, a little bit older, and a whole lot smarter. Don't say we didn't warn you.

Calle Fuencarral, 35. 2ºIzda. 28004 Madrid [España]