Ballistic Edna was interviewed by the great Richie Frieman of penseyeview.com

The full interview will be available on penseyeview.com on March 7.  Enjoy:

Ballistic Edna's gig at Kate The Great's provoked awards for the following:

Jack Edna- For gutting it out on -1.5 hours shuteye and a keg of bean water.

Robin Edna- For the babysitterless slog from where the buses don't run , and six string alchemy.

Marcella Edna- For the any time, any place, soaring soliloquys and good will toward men.

Lars- For the obtuse, coming-at-you-sideways chit chat and squad car siren imitation.

j9- For the wine, cookies, and slaphappy backslapping.

The Audience- If you hadn't snorted the Boone's Farm I talked you into you'd have frozen to death on the way home.  See?!

Hay-

Ballistic Edna is back with a snort!  Four of our songs have been downloaded over 1,100,000 times. "She Will Return" appeared on Dawson's Creek,   "Leave The Door Open" on the BIG FM radio network all over Europe, "Smoulder" has been downloaded over 750,000 times.  And in November we'll be appearing on a Podcast at the Chicago Acoustic Underground thanks to the magnificent Michael Teach.  Along the way we threw a few down with superb violinist Andrea Else.  I'd tell you more but it's getting dark and I can't see the keyboard...

It’s just before showtime when a pink-eyed Courtney Love brandishing a lawn dart busts into The Broken Oar biker barn.   “Dance !” she shouts foaming at the mouth.  “Dance or be sorry!”

Slowly the road hogs form into squares.   Clapping and stomping they start an infectious rhythm which we pick up and build into Gwen Stefani’s “Bananas”.  It looks like a happy ending, when the madwoman, her clothes ablaze, dives off the bar into a huddle of Harley horsemen.  They wheelie off in all directions as we shift into Springstein’s “I’m On Fire”.    Love’s crackling like a string of lit firecrackers as the barmen put the flames out with their fists.  When they hurl the Hole’s Angel into the Illinois River she sets off boat fuel on the surface, adding fine fireworks to the festivities.  We ease into “Smoke On The Water”, and the cycle samurai’s drive us in triumphant circles around the parking lot.

Robin bowls a strike with this plush fete, but fate strikes back, almost.  A toothy Shovelhead with strong gang ties infiltrates Marcella's hand, swelling it to Limbaugh ego dimensions.  A swirly cools the feline felon's jets but on the outdoor stage we roast like neck of missionary on a cannibal spit.  At song's end heads plunge into dunk tanks to squelch fires that break out in the hair, and the ass of a girl with "Hottie" tattooed on her shorts catches light.  Through smoke and odor we perceive someone waving us into the space age cafeteria for a toot.  We order one of everything on the menu, and lie down in a bed of crushed ice.

-Ballistic Edna

We play Club Lucky for Around The Coyote but it smells like the coyotes have been Around here.  The back alley exudes a pungent pong, but even the rats wear gas masks near the parking lot stage.  "People drink to forget the stink" winked one barmaid, but by then most had drunk enough to forget what she was talking about.  A cocktail of whiffs drives the local children mad, and they stage dive in front of us, in vain attempts to expunge their nose demons. A quick cover of Lynyrd Skynurd's "That Smell" and we're out of here...

-Ballistic Edna