| Press Kit presskit[at]cyclecide.com | |
|
If running down a crowded narrow Mexican street alongside bull-shaped floats packed with exploding fireworks sounds like a good time to you, you're not alone. The bike-raping punks of San Francisco's Cyclecide engineered their first US tour this past year to wind all the way down to the Tultepec Pyrotechnics Festival in Mexico. Along the way, the Bike Rodeo performed shows throughout the Southwest, spreading the Message of the Reconstituted Bike with freakish "alter-cycles", messy klown makeup, and beer. Lots of beer.
Next, Cyclecide's "fearless bleeder" Jarico Reesce climbed in his converted '66 school bus to drive his club, a bunch of notorious SF performance artists, and three giant Doggie Diner dog's heads on a trailer (yes, really) to NYC and back -- taking its own travelling "attraction" on a road trip of ridiculous proportions. After a welcoming party in Times Square where 30 other clowns piled on the bus and Mr. Lucky, a group of burlesque dancers, and about 300 real live dachsunds welcomed them warmly, the group took New York's Critical Mass that night, CBGB's the next night, and Brooklyn the day after that. New York will never be the same. The third tour of the year was sponsored by a beer company! Cyclecide tooled all around the Southwest corner of the States as part of Fat Tire Beer's "Tour de Fat". All in all, the Bike Rodeo inflicted about 40 shows on the general populace in 2003. Hide your spandex and your helmets, because Cyclecide's currently hunkered down in the Bayview compound, chopping and welding pedal-powered monstrosities and re-gathering its strength ... |
|
| Past Media "Reese looks like a cross between a cartoon duckling and a revolutionary Bolshevik, and is, as such, strangely inspiring." August 2004 SF Weekly "It's the thrill and the element of danger that people like. And I have insurance." May 2004 SF Weekly "To get an idea of what, exactly, the Cyclecide folks do, imagine Cirque du Soleil. Now take away the grace and beauty of a hundred seminaked French people and replace it with a bunch of surly, moonshine-swilling, outlaw types wearing monkey boots and moth-eaten clothing." August 2003 SF Weekly ..."contraptions that look like Salvador Dali dream- cycles riding through a psilocybin hallucination...." May 2001 SF Chronicle "One of the group's mottoes is ``No brakes, no problem.'' These people aren't anti-safety, but safety isn't a major priority. Or a fleeting consideration." August 2000 SF Chronicle "Two new cop cars arrive to survey the scene. Like their earlier cohort, they just pull up close enough to check out all the bikes and try to hide their smirks when two jousting fools wind up in a pile on the pavement." July 2000 SF Weekly |
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
