POP MUSIC REVIEW : Squad Cranks With Delightful, Wild Abandon

Perhaps all of us are haunted by those shows that got away, legendary one-time events that occurred while we were somewhere else. While others worry about missing Springsteen in a biker bar or Peter Gabriel at the Bear, for well over a decade this writer has been irked about missing an Orange County group called Gumby at Costa Mesa’s killed-in-action Cuckoo’s Nest.

According to those who were there, Gumby’s performance was a fearless merger of art and utter ineptitude: Over the sort of pure dissonance that only the unschooled can create, the group’s singer reportedly spent one song flailing about, clutching his forehead and pathetically repeating, “Mom, I hurt my head!” as catsup oozed from his hair. For a finale, the band hurled partially eaten sandwiches into the audience.

Lightning rarely strikes twice, but hearing of a Pomona Valley band featuring a hand truck as a percussion instrument, a vocalist who sometimes sings through a sad panda mask, and such lyrical expressions as “I keep bonking my head. . . . Oooo, ow, that hurts,” one had reason to hope.

Performing at Club Tangent on Wednesday night, Desperation Squad may not quite have competed with the mists of time and opportunity lost, but it proved to be a unique and amusing outfit. In the 11-song set, the Squad’s sound seemed to be part Pere Ubu, part early Kinks and one part cleansing cream.

The six Squad members actually had a fairly sharp musical expertise, but didn’t let it get in their way. Instead, they whacked away at their songs with an abandon well suited to the moves of their frenetically kinetic lead singer Mr. P., who looked to be running at about the same bruise-to-skin ratio as the early Iggy Pop.

They opened the set with Pere Ubu’s “Street Waves” and followed with originals (most from their “Hot Diggity Dogs!” album, produced by David Lindley guitarist Ray Woodbury) that mixed a raw melodicism with a powerful sound best likened to a toxic-laden locomotive.

“Serious Love” twinned biting guitar hooks from guitarists Jeff Hayes and Bob Jones around a lyric where Mr. P asked: “Why would I drive my car through a brick wall,/And pound the steering wheel many times onto my face? It must be serious love.”

Problems with love and automobiles were central to several of the songs. The yearning for automobility in “I Need a Girl (With a Car)”--on which percussionist Becky Hamm appropriately played a hubcap--was offset by “I Died (in a Car).” On the latter tune, Mr. P careened about the stage under a sheet, and his vocal imparted some of the indignation one might feel after such an abrupt and terminal change in lifestyle.

Girls who like thugs was the topic of “She Don’t Love Me (I’m Not a Criminal),” while “Mr. Fireworks” offered a hilarious glimpse into the mind of a dance-floor egotist. It also was the band’s musical high point, kicking with the intensity of the Kinks’ “I’m Not Like Everybody Else.” The pathetic panda mask made an appearance late in the set, looking all-the-more deranged with Mr. P’s long hair flying out of its mouth as he flailed about the stage.

While reportedly something of a sensation on its home turf, the band pulled in few O.C. listeners Wednesday. The low attendance, coupled with the venue’s odd policy of leaving the house lights on during performances, may have lessoned the band’s impact.