HO-AG PHOTOS HIGH RESOLUTION WEB BIO Ho-Ag plays a mix of loud noise-rock and some spooky, slow moving business inspired by sci-fi and horror soundtracks. Some have likened them to Braniac, some have likened them to the B-52s. Who knows. The new album, Doctor Cowboy, came out in July of 2008 and has so far sold more copies than the Bible among certain demographics. The five-piece has played across the country since 2002, performing for the first time ever in Boston, MA at the Midway Cafe with USAISAMONSTER. They've so far racked up over 325 shows at nearly ever conceivable kind of venue and slept on every time of floor/non-floor. They began releasing records on their own with the self-made The Meteor Is a Decoy and People Coming Back In Time for Me and then moved on to releases with the Boston label Mister Records. They first hit the road in 2003. A lot of things have changed in their six years as a band, but they still base a lot of the stuff on the same few misguided ideas -- mixing punk rock and B-movie sound effects, misunderstood notions of avant-garde composition, a politely misanthropic worldview, and a lot of caffeine. The biggest achievement for Ho-Ag so far has been to win a poetry contest at poetry.com (either that or the time that the Melvins gave them the bananas from their backstage room one time). Growing in renown while sharing bills with the likes of Melt-Banana, Melvins, The Octopus Project, Enon, Deerhoof, Dan Deacon, Neptune, Dresden Dolls, The Shipping News, Parts & Labor and the Ex-Models, Ho-Ag has carved its own special musical niche where gloomy horror film tangents go hand-in-hand with basement no-wave revivals and Game Boy battles. PRESS Pitchfork October 6, 2006 Ho-Ag's latest, The Word From Pluto, has plenty of hip touchstones in their blizzard of sound-- Les Savy Fav, Brainiac, Devo-- but played with bravery, balance, and smarts, carrying with it the feel of basement shows rather than arty detachment. You'd be lucky to find a basement with these guys playing in it. I'm lucky to have come across it. "Paint the Navy" blows out of the gates with metronome-steady rhythms, blaring guitars, and keyboards that seem as if they'll malfunction at any point. "Under the Maps" features greater dynamic leaps, moving from windmill strums to head-bobbing bass and chicken-scratch chords, while singer Mat Parish plays along with whispered croons to megaphone-augmented emoting. "Lemon Juice or Vinegar" makes idle threats over muted guitars and seasick rhythms, but just in case they lost momentum (they didn't), "TDPK" resumes the sputtering chaos where guitars angle, the rhythm section stops and starts, and the synths squeal like pigs getting branded. But for a group that sounds like a science project with a drug stipend, everything's somehow in its right place. It's dance-punk, spazz-rock, rawk-revival, and post-hardcore-- all for a minute at a time at least. Given that, there's a surprising amount of ebb and flow here, along with generous dollops of melody. No showing off, just demonstrable chops and the desire to write real songs from a more-than-slightly-askew angle. Parish isn't quite the strong personality that the bands name-dropped above have boasted, but he adds coy personality to "Lemon Juice and Vinegar" while still belting out the melodies needed to float the disjointed numbers like "Paint the Navy" and more. A more over-the-top vocalist would only clash with Ho-Ag's controlled chaos. But as Levar Burton used to tell you in your cereal-and-pajamas days, you don't have to take my word for it. Start with "American Mall" if you get lost, let the keyboards lob you a life preserver while the band spits and seizes around it, and allow momentum-- something The Word From Pluto has in spades-- take you through to "Pinhead", the track that brandishes a 10-ton hook and rocks as hard as any 1970s arena act, except the drummer needs to be sober to pull off the ragged rhythms of the chorus. Some of the most welcome surprises are tacked onto the end of the record ("The Hoodoo Sea" might be the record's best), but you should know by now whether this accessible, prodigious spazz-rock entry isn't for you. If it is, get to work already and find it. -Jason Crock, October 06, 2006 Skyscraper #24, Summer 2007 There are several predictable moves inherent in the type of jerky shock-rock Ho-Ag play. Luckily, the Massachusetts quintet refuses to resort to tricks of the trade that have been used over and over until they no longer hold any value. The Word from Pluto is a scrappy scratch'n'sniff adventure with surreal synths, stabbing planks of guitar, and smooth reels of bassery filling its guts. Whether you can hold this down without upchucking its contents is a fair question, but you'll likely find the journey enthralling. Moods of all shapes and sizes are on display, as are several random diversions that take songs in unexpected directions. As risky as it is to reach for the sun and the sky and the stars, Ho-Ag did just that and wound up recording one of the more invigorating albums of 2006. Boston Phoenix It's been documented - with marker, in the girls' stall at the Abbey Lounge no less! - that Locust-y frazzle-punks Ho-Ag are capable of rocking people's faces off. But they've been so busy changing masks and sledge-hammering hyphens to subgenres that their records were more like party favors from a bloody car wreck (or a Birthday Party reunion) than indicators of long-term commitment to any one sonic ideal. This track, from their latest found-sound apocalypse, The Word from Pluto, congeals around circusy keybs and hairpin stunt guitars while frontguy Matt Parish hot-thrashes his way through dissident Wikipedia entries from the ends of time. Sliver Magazine Grade: A- | Never afraid to test the limits of familiar time signatures, these Massachusetts natives fit in nicely with their Hello Sir brethren Cinemechanica: fast as hell and all about precision. Constantly thrashing with a cacophony of seamless riffs, Ho-Ag is relentless with its onslaught of piercing energy. The record incorporates some seriously hot ideas; "Pinhead" is particularly jaunty. There are even moments where the spirit of 80s metal raises its hand for a little attention. However, the vocals are too deep in the mix, leaving the record wanting more lyrical content. "Paint the Navy" brings out the best in the band with a bit more to hold on to and reminds of Les Savy Fav (so of course I love it). The Weekly Dig From the first fall-down-the-curvy-back-stairwell notes of "Paint the Navy" to the massive discordant coronary that puts "The Hoodoo Sea" to sleep, Ho-Ag’s second full-length is a bold step (or hard stumble) forward from—well, just about everything. Taking their familiar cues from Devo and Brainiac, they’ve tossed in a couple delightfully unreliable triangulation points for added confusion: sometimes Sun Ra, sometimes All Scars, sometimes Shudder to Think. “Man the Dam”—a reworking of a track from an old split 7-inch with Laughing Light—is like some act of art-rock martyrdom, hijacking the groove from No Doubt’s "Just A Girl" and bravely flying it into a cliff. "Into the River" is like the D. Plan on crystal meth and a hunger strike, with its hysterically dovetailed stopstarts, Matt Parish’s surrealist auctioneering and Tyler Derryberry’s Moogy scrawls, all hooked onto the perfectly preserved skeleton of rock & roll. The pokey jabs of "Stay Home Tonight" open into frenzied jibber-jabber, busted punk chunks and blasts of Patrick Kim’s cruel and unusual guitar treatment. Skratch Magazine The second full-length release from this Boston MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 3K quintet is one of the most beautiful and original albums ever. I used to think that The Mars Volta was creative until I heard Ho-Ag. Imagine a cross between thrash punk and electronica played by math nerds and science-fiction geeks. All 14 frenzied tracks contribute to an unbelievable onslaught of insanity and something that seems a cross between The Germs and Chick Corea. Screw it. There's no good description here, just an album full of tunes that seem to suck the oxygen out of the air and force you into a deep, dark hole where the only thing you hear as you suffocate is a theremin. -Dug Performer Magazine Ho-Ag joined their Southern brethren from Hello Sir Records at The Tank. Fresh off their recent release of The Word From Pluto, the five-piece quickly dug in to their powerfully experimental indie-rock thrash, drawing instantaneous cheers from the expectant crowd. Vocalist Matt Parish, whose smirk was partly concealed by the hood of his sweatshirt, growled electrically, pushing along the band's insistent, pounding rhythms. At times it seemed as though there were five shows taking place simultaneously, with each member delivering strong, soaring melodies.

CONTACT info (at) ho-ag (dot) com SITE www.ho-ag.com BAND MATT PARISH TYLER DERRYBERRY ERIC MEYER KRISTINA JOHNSON RYAN BROWN MUSIC [from Doctor Cowboy] HANDSOME SUBMARINE UNSPEAKABLE DRAWING THE BOUNDARIES OF THE NIGHT [from TWFP and PFTW] PAINT THE NAVY THE HOODOO SEA GOLDEN ALL NIGHT DISCOGRAPHY Doctor Cowboy (full-length CD)(Hello Sir) Elektro/Elektra (mini-CD EP)(Self-Released) The Word From Pluto (full-length CD)(Hello Sir) Pray For the Worms (EP CD)(Self-Released) Ho-Ag/Laughing Light (Split 7")(Mister) Ho Ag Equals Go At (full-length CD)(Mister) People Coming Back in Time for Me (mini-CD EP)(Self-Released) The Meteor Is a Decoy (CDR)(Self-Released) VIDEO Ho-Ag Live

PHOTO CREDITS (from top): Jeff Galusha, Janice Maestas, Amy Wallenberg, Matt Parish, Mike White