By Liz Tracy
By David Rolland
By Alex Rendon
By Terrence McCoy
By Natalya Jones
By County Grind
By Liz Tracy
By Chris Joseph
Hodapp doesn't quite see it that way. "I'm used to banging out 15 songs in 25 hours," he says, "so it drove me nuts. Mark nitpicks. But I don't think you can argue with the results."
Most of the arguing seems to happen after TBM's shows. After a gig at Fort Lauderdale's legendary Poor House this past January, Nolan managed to get his band banned from the pub. "We were drinking like maniacs," he recounts. Trouble ensued. "One of their bouncers told me I was being a smartass and pushed me into the street. I ended up throwing a chair." O'Toole chuckles, "We got banned, but Todd got amazingly banned." But he won't miss the Poor House's low ceiling. "With three people over 6 feet tall," O'Toole notes, "it's not a very comfortable place to play anyway."
The bulk of TBM's gigs have moved around the corner to Tavern 213. Yet even there, the band has run into static. "For some reason, we just weren't on it one night, and we drove everyone out of the club," Nolan remembers. "There were a few stragglers, so I made as much noise with the Theremin as possible. It was the only time I'd ever seen them close the front door at the Tavern. The door guy was telling people not to go in! After we cleared the club, I turned around and sang to the window."
With their don't-give-a-damn aesthetic firmly in place, the members of Trapped by Mormons are poised to go as far as the project will take them -- if it wants to take them somewhere, that is. " I don't care if we play to one man and his dog or 15,000 people," O'Toole states. "We're pretty laid-back about the whole thing. We're not trying to get in every nook and cranny. If it comes, it comes. I'm not going to be too worried if it stays just like this."