A year later Holy Molar resurfaced with a batch of new songs on a 10-inch self-titled picture disc (Three One G) and a much-discussed statewide “prison facility tour.” With the recent reissue of its first two releases — on double cut-down 3-inch CDs — it would appear that Holy Molar is a full-time deal. “At first it was just supposed to be a side project, but Molar is a way of life now,” said Bray when asked about the band’s status. Pearson agreed, stating, “The main reason we weren’t a normal, functional band is because Ron, our drummer, lives in Oregon with his band, The Get Hustle, and three of us are Locusts. It’s hard to have time to play and tour. Plus, Bobby was in jail for a while.” Holy Molar’s music, written off by some lazy critics as “just another Locust band,” pushes things toward the future with squiggly, hacking time-signature sways, screaming post-hardcore vocals and keyboards that break with convention entirely, bonking, sputtering and blurting mid-song like Saturday-morning cartoon sound effects. Now in the waning months of 2002, Holy Molar exists as a weird, cranked-up anomaly in San Diego’s local music scene. The first Molar 7-inch, despite still being available from Three One G for its original price, is already fetching obscene amounts on eBay. And the rumor mill — the great, half-bright gossip machine — continues to pump out more and more Holy Molar “stories.” But rumors, hype and inflated resale prices aside, Holy Molar is one of San Diego’s most vital and uncompromisingly brutal bands, a garish spurt of noise, passion and white-hot fury. Holy Molar’s double-CD set, “The Whole Tooth and Nothing but the Tooth,” is in stores now. |
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