Naming a band is an act of concentrated creative expression. Square Pig in a Round Hole exists to reward five favorite band names each week. Winners are listed alphabetically. Selection is wholly unscientific and subject to whim, with a bias toward wordplay, humor, and local flavor. In most cases, I won’t know anything about the bands at the time of selection. Thanks to the Seattle Times club listings for abundant source material!
July is here! Always a favorite month, and this year more than ever. My debut novel, The Gospel According to St Rage, will be released in 12 days; I have a vacation right after that; my birthday’s at the end of the month; and here at the beginning, July 4 falls on a Monday and gives us a 3-day weekend. Everybody drive carefully, be excellent to each other, don’t blow off a limb, and don’t black out. Meanwhile, I’m celebrating these band names:
Local flavor! Those of us of a certain age will wax nostalgic at any mention of the Bubbleator, like the Space Needle an homage to the past’s future. I was happy to learn the original had been repurposed as a greenhouse and a recording studio, and perhaps even happier to find it in a band name. The umlaut and the apostrophe add to the appeal: there’s still only one Bubbleator, it’s a metalhead, and it possesses . . . something.
One of the resident young people once explained to me the difference between scary and spooky, in terms of skeletons. A real skeleton on the ground is scary, a reminder of death and danger. An animated skeleton is spooky: macabre but silly. So a dancing skeleton would be extra spooky.
Found this one on the same bill with Extra Spooky. It starts out lovely and poetic, then turns a bit silly as it dozes off. Three is the exact right numbers of z’s.
The pirate association makes this a popular band name — I found three without hardly trying. It’s more fitting for a Seattle band, though, because you can also reference the neighborhood. Watch out, South Lake Union.
As a novelist, I rarely know the ending of the book before I start writing, but discover it as I go, sometimes not until I’m there. The Gospel According to St Rage is the rare example where I knew where I was going and just had to figure out how to get there. It’s the tenth written but the first to be published. Maybe that should tell me something. Or not.