Cracker Factory

Many years ago, before the iPod and the topless espresso stand, three young men came together in a sonic experiment that would unlock the sacred mysteries of the planet and lay them bare upon the table. You can call the men of Cracker Factory a lot of things. Call them miscreants, heathen sorcerers, or scoundrels of the merriest variety. Just don't try to compare them to any band in existence. R.L. Heyer, Shane Smith and Denali Williams mingled their musical ministrations for the first time in a dusty bar in Cheney, WA. Oh, to have been a fly on a dirty pint glass in that establishment and to have heard the first sweet songs issue forth from the trio. The band was named Cracker Factory and the music was good. The sound that they made found its outlet in their first album, a rare treasure precariously perched on obscurity called Deep Fried Basket of Love. But the world didn't yet have an appetite for the trio's scrumptious fare and Cracker Factory returned to the studio to perfect the recipe. It was in this time of growth, a creative smörgåsbord, that the trio discovered the song that would change their lives forever. The day started innocently enough. Progress on their sophomore album Mouth Breather was better than anticipated. Shane was thumping out the bass line of “I Know Two Notes” while Denali was mimicking a Casio drum machine on the rim of his snare. At exactly the perfect moment (although completely unbeknownst to him) R.L. struck his guitar and the trio's harmony literally tore apart the fabric of time and space. Poised on the brink, they marveled at the infinite wonders stretching away before them. For a brief instant they understood eternity. Then, brashly braving what no other had braved brashly before, the young men stepped forward into time's passage to be carried away on a fantastic voyage. For a decade they were lost. Wandering through time and space, the young men of Cracker Factory played their tunes, searching for a way to step back out of time's treacherous passageways, searching for the era most in need of their songs. For a period they became separated in the twisting tunnels of time and sucked into other dimensions, very like our own. R.L., lone poet searching for his kin, rose to prominence as the leader of a merry band of troubadours that played to thousands of fans drunk on the ecstasy of his weathered voice. Shane and Denali enlisted as mercenaries with a traveling band of gypsies, seasoning their rhythmic talents and learning how to whip a crowd into a wriggling mass of supplicants. For ten years they lived apart, but they did not abandon hope. Bits and pieces of song and legends of each other's exploits came to them at times, though entire galaxies stood between them. At night they found each other in dreams and schemed to be reunited. Then one night while Shane and Denali were practicing, a night like any other, they heard a dusky voice singing a song that was at once new and as familiar as an old friend. They looked up from their practice and saw that R.L. had found them at last. Back in each other's company, Cracker Factory set to work shaping their experiences into an album that would enhance the world with its refreshing honesty and sonic complexity. They discovered in each other that the earth-shattering sound they'd first created had matured into a tone that could also be subtle, mysterious and seductive. With the greatest of ease they could create soothing waves of music then lift their audience like ships in a storm and hurl them in the air. Their arrangements have a delicate complexity; they are a record of man's progress through time and carry echoes of all great music before and premonitions of all great music yet to come. And therein lies the beauty of Cracker Factory. Close your eyes and immerse yourself in the bliss, knowing full well that it could end at any moment. Cascadia Rock