Band: Dillinger Four

Name:Dillinger FourLocation:Minneapolis, Minnesota, United StatesGenre:Punkrock


Erik - Vocals/Guitar
St. Patrick - Vocals/Bass
Billy - Guitar
Lane - Drums



I ainít gonna bullshit you. If that was the plan, this bio would come with a cigarette, a match, and a long straw so you could blow smoke up your own ass.

Dillinger Four í no scene can straightjacket them. No Ďcoreí can completely holster their sound. No genre can lock Ďem. If youíve got ears, it doesnít take much more than a simian brain to realize that D4 have taken that putty-filled term, Ďpunk rock,í stretched it beyond its primitive beginnings, and continue to make it snap and bounce in ways it never has.

Hold on, mister. You say theyíre progressive? Kinda like ELO or Mott the Hoople? No. Here are some secrets. Folks who say itís all been said before; well theyíre fucking wrong. There are folks who say that punkís over played, that itís lost its utility. I posit this: has our culture ever been more mall-ified? Have SUVs secretly alleviated the suffering of growing up in America? No, to all that. That scratchy feeling that punk can give when itís under your skin, imagine it as a string thatís dangling at the back of your throat. What would happen if it was really a lit fuse? You get music you explode with in the present tense.

The cage has been built. Itís not enough to just rattle it. Thatís for pansies. Enter four Midwesterners. Load them up with stereophonic dynamite, the loud poetry of revolt imbedded in hook-filled punishment. Whatís the result? They take a musical cul-de-sac and make a freeway right to your headphones, your stereo, and if all goes right, to your fists, head, and heart.


Cold weather makes human fingers feel like pork chops and makes it difficult to play musical instruments. A smart architect came up with the advent of putting rooms at the bottom of houses in Minnesota. These were ideal breeding grounds í little petri dishes for a die-hard culture. Almost soundproof, these basements hosted many bands that used amplification and electricity. Dillinger Four was one such band who exhibited a large amount of sass, ass, and cold weather brawn. They plugged in. Like-minded malcontents, miscreants, rogues, and girls with large winter coats assembled. They all yelled, danced, drank, sweat, and clapped. What started out as a band that said they sounded Ďlike Screeching Weasel but with nuts as big as grapefruit, you know?í, gained both popularity and notoriety. Basements could no longer contain them.

Lazy bastards or leisure geniuses? You decide. Somewhere in this slow-moving juggernaut, they recorded two neutron bombs of albums titled Midwestern Songs of the Americas and Versus God for Hopeless Records. Bothíll make you want to crash your car and dance around the wreckage. Fun stuff. Save your drama for your momma, Ďcause there ainít any here. On June 4th, 2002, D4íll be releasing their third full-length, Situationist Comedy. This oneís on Fat Wreck Chords.


Erik (guitar, vocals) : If D4 was a fruity band that relied on synchronized Youth Of Today style jumping, heíd be used as the sexy marketing tool due to the fact that heís the least fat of the four. But never mistake him for a tool of any type. In his spare time, he runs a modest, well-liked eating and drinking establishment, the Triple Rock. He smokes a lot.

Billy (guitar, vocals) : Perhaps itís his uncanny resemblance to Lemmy during D4ís all-Motorhead Halloween cover set. Perhaps itís because heís a Simpsons-phile (I bet he knows the price of Maggie when sheís scanned at the beginning of each episode.), but itís easy to see that Billyís a man of all seasons. In his spare time heís been a calendar model (pouring liquor with doe eyes) and siphons off the really collectible records brought into Extreme Noise (a record emporium).

Lane (drums) : After the relentless pursuit of becoming a full-time Pabst mascot and an abbreviated stint as a one-man synchronized swimmer in Las Vegas casino fountains, Lane settled in, buckled down, and finished his Ph.D. in psychology. (No shit.) His bosses were impressed that Green Day invited D4 to open for them in Japan. The airline staff wasnít so enthused that D4 drank all their beer before crossing the international date line.

Paddy (vocals, bass) : If he were an underwear model, heíd be called husky. This intenerate photocopier at various sundry firms is also a hired gun bassist. He was in the Beltones for eight minutes. Heís in Cleveland Bound Death Sentence, but thatís more of a studio thing. Heís the guy with words tattooed across his chest. He cuts the ass cheeks out of electric pink biking shorts and jumps on bouncers. People he doesnít like, they get kicked in the throat.


So, whatís it going to be for you? Which side you on? Mourning musical corpses or dancing on their graves? Let D4 flick the on switch thatíll jackhammer the mausoleum. Letís get fuckedí


Alben von Dillinger Four @FetzOrDie