Disappearing Act : Screwtape, which will give its last and very loud performance Friday, is going the way of many other bands--blooey.

They should’ve been called Crashing I-Mud, since Screwtape happens to be the musical answer to the question: What if a bunch of local bands blew up? Even this band is going blooey, a fatal affliction striking down several local bands of late.

The final Screwtape show will be Friday night at the Insomniac Coffeehouse located in the Mayfair Theater in Ventura, the land of no age limit, no booze, and thus no cops and no problems. Thus, the Screwtape swan song soiree will be swell.

Guitarist Jeff Sparks used to be in the I-Rails, but now he’s not. It used to be worse than that--Sparks used to live in Visalia. He’s going to move to Arcata in Northern California, land of too many Giants fans. Forget the I-Rails reunion. In fact, after tomorrow, forget Screwtape.

Other guitarist Matt Schulte, a former Jayhawk, used to be in the Crashing Plains, but now he’s not. He used to be the Matt part of folk duo Matt & Bill, but Bill moved away. Schulte also used to be the brain behind Cool Engine Myth, sort of a weird vocal project like a long-lost Indian tribe recently discovered among the outtakes of “2001.” Schulte is probably moving to Portland, anyway, where he can get just as many Royals games on TV as he does here. Damn few.

Bass player and group Dodger fan Dave Ragsdale used to be in the Mudheads, but they broke up. And drummer Chris Polley, well, everyone needs a drummer.

This entire scenario is like the soundtrack for one of those ‘40s black-and-white film noir pictures where everybody is doomed, everybody knows it, and nobody cares. Screwtape has about as much future as a box of cookies at Raymond Burr’s house, or Raymond Burr, full of cookies, at Godzilla’s house.

At least Screwtape doesn’t have to waste time trying to find a cure for the basically incurable musical malady, “creative differences,” or cultivate gray hair while worrying about getting signed. That’s probably why there’s no band name on the drums, no rock T-shirts, no tape. They’ve got one foot on the on-ramp already. At least they’ll be gone before anyone has time to get tired of them. And you probably didn’t even know they were sick.

“I was just talking to Dave one day on the phone about how we’re not in our old bands anymore,” said Sparks in a recent interview from the band’s secret practice site. From a phone call about eight months ago to a dozen or so Sparks originals to “see ya later.” Time flies.

One thing about Screwtape that is instantly obvious is that they’re very loud. They’re louder than an ambulance, the kind that scare you to death before the bill does. If there was a Screwtape tape, the warning sticker would be bigger than a Chrysler. They’re like a loud X-ray that goes through the human body: You should refrain from any heavy lifting for 24 hours after a Screwtape show.

Perhaps they could cure cancer by scaring the offending cells right out of your body. They’re so loud, you should bring a kidney belt to keep your insides within the same time zone. Bring earplugs or your lines will be narrowed to “Huh?”

All that’s OK because rock ‘n’ roll is supposed to be loud, otherwise how else can you irritate the folks? And then there’s all that stuff about if it’s too loud, you’re too old. Sparks sings, Schulte helps sometimes, and Ragsdale and Polley do what bass players and drummers usually do. There’s no soulful ballads from Screwtape. Not one.

There is, however, a raging cover of “Eleanor Rigby,” featuring parts of “Pipeline,” which is sort of like combining a Surf Punks song with a Paula Abdul song, except the Screwtape experiment works. “That one had that desperately-wanting-to- sell-out quality,” noted Schulte. “We’re a post-modern construct,” said Ragsdale.

“We don’t describe our music . . . except we’re Raging Arb & the Redheads with guts,” noted Sparks, leaving, fortunately for his health, on the next bus. “Actually, the coolest thing about Screwtape is breakfast. We have breakfast more than we practice.”

“We also have really cool flyers,” said Polley. Cool, perhaps, but not numerous, definitely. Screwtape has only played about 10 times.

In the last year in Ventura alone, the I-Rails, the Mudheads, Plato’s Cat, Frankenstein, Expression, Durango 95 and Raging Arb & the Redheads all went the way of the carrier pigeon, the dodo, and the Edsel, except Arb came back. But without Screwtape the local scene will be: “Gasping for air,” according to Schulte; or “Dead,” according to Polley; or, according to Ragsdale, “After the 24th, there will be no local scene.”

“Hey, can you mention Phil Hendrie in this article?” asked Ragsdale, succinctly summing up a wide-ranging yet incomprehensible interview.

Probably not. Isn’t he working in Atlanta now?

Opening for Screwtape will be those goofy aliens from Biscuitonia 5, Big Biscuit Express, which now boasts a fourth member, Johnny Bruton.