Here it is Yoopers & lovers of psycho-grass--The re-release of carp's Cockpockalpyse double album masterpiece: Mostly live at the Village Pub, 12/14/02. After twenty four & a half years -- join Philville Records in celebratory joy by shoving this in your ear holes. Name your price, download it, and store it in a safe place. It will be available on all streaming platforms starting June 14th, 2026, and will stay there until the world begs for it to go away (or we can't make enough money off it to pay for the cover song royalties). 

 

Lovingly extracted from the only remaining copies of the original CD's from 2002, this project nearly broke two separate CD/DVD players (turns out adhesive labels on CD's don't age well) -- and took an inordinate amount of time to bring back to life. The process involved a vintage RCA double well real-time CD burner, a half bottle of Tequila, three incantations from Aleister Crowley's unpublished sex diaries, subsequent smudging of the studio, and Arnold Schwarzenegger's iconic line from Total Recall "Get your Ass to Mars" being played on a loop for three hours straight. 

 

It is truly a means of time travel, as we believe it's the only fully recorded show at Marquette's Village Pub (now Stuckos) from it's musical heyday of the early 2000's.

You can hear the drunks screaming, smell the smoke filled dive bar, and imagine how much ice was dumped into the men's room urinal. (It was, after all, the Holidays in the U.P. -- a festive time).  

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carp, was, and is, Ken Thieman (Guitar), Taylor Klipp (Banjo), and Dave Falls (Bass) (and sometimes Jeff Ahrens & Cockpockalypse). Everyone sang too. The live tracks were recorded and produced by Adam Johnson. Studio tracks were engineered by Jenn Klipp and Don Howe. Album art was by Aren Burthwick, Studio tracks produced by Dave Falls, carp & anonymous. Layout by Mike Luusua. None of these people want to admit to any of this now, so don't look them up. 

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Now sit back, put on your best set of headphones, fire up a spliff, and prepare to revisit a brief time when bluegrass played by wise-ass punks was still a novelty in the Northwoods. As carp put it best, "Fuck Bluegrass, and Fuck You.