Zoinks

Pagemaster

Mind Bullets

Lay Where You Fall

Gothic Whore

Machine Gun

Take Control

Space Harlette 2001

The Four Horsemen/Woman of the Rockpocalypse. Harlette rises like a phoenix from the sandblasted desert of Tucson, setting you ablaze with our siren's call. 
A powerful and energy driven sound fused with hints of alt rock, metal, blues, and funk, Harlette has created a unique style for the Tucson area.

Light Will Dawn

Johnny & June

11:11

The Four Horsemen/Woman of the Rockpocalypse. Harlette rises like a phoenix from the sandblasted desert of Tucson, setting you ablaze with our siren's call. 
A powerful and energy driven sound fused with hints of alt rock, metal, blues, and funk, Harlette has created a unique style for the Tucson area.

It was a day not unlike today. Wait, remember that nice day last week? It was more like that. 
As a young boy, Michael sat in his room practicing his guitar day after day. He knew he had a destiny, a fate. He knew it involved his guitar. Finding that destiny would lead him on an adventure in exploration and spelunking dreamed of by many, attempted by some, achieved by few. He had not the foresight or skin to predict that he would be an instrument of prophecy.
Kayla's childhood was that of lollipops and unicorns. That's what she dreamed of while working the rice fields. Butterflies danced gayly around her every step as birds sang their sweet songs of happiness gently into her ear. The reality is that she was living in a self-induced fantasy, fully manifested to protect her young mind, while her body was forced into hard labor. She would sing back to the birds, and eventually learned their songs. She didn't know why she felt the definite and un-ending urge to sing, controlling her like a hunger. She knew not the power in her voice.
Travis was raised in the comforts of luxury. He wanted for nothing. Being a Maxwell III came with not only privileges, but unalienable rights. Every night at dinner, he refused the silverware given to him. He did not know it then, but this was a test from his father. No Maxwell III should be forced to eat off of silver! Only gold is acceptable! To his father's dismay, Travis was not interested in the goldware. He felt the urge to only use his fingers; on everything! He was becoming a true bass player, and he didn't even own one. His fingers hardened with every use. They were the only tool he would ever need. It was when he picked up a bass for the first time and felt a rumble like a warm summer day's thunderstorm that one more piece of the prophecy came to fruition.
Randall can't remember most of his childhood. That's what happens when you're raised by hippies. The one thing that does stand out in his memory is his need to bang on everything. When the clouds of smoke cleared and the acid wore off, there was little Randall, sitting on the kitchen floor behind the most brutal pots and pans drum set ever conceived. His audience at that time mostly thought he was a hallucination. They barely knew where they were. But that didn't stop him from performing every opportunity that he was afforded. Until the munchies struck. Then his beautiful kit would be dismantled and food stuffs would be prepared in it. He knew one day he would have a real drum set, and running water. And when that day came, he played his drums in the shower. Somehow he managed to electrocute himself just enough to give him a glimpse of the future. He knew what he had to do.
Through the trials and tribulations of life, the four found themselves in Tucson as adults. There was an almost unnatural energy drawing them together, cosmic. It is believed that when the four elements combine, the end will be near. They became the Four Horsemen/Woman of the Rockpocalypse. Voice, tone, frequency, and concussion unite to bring an end to the world as we know it. Nothing will ever be the same... Ever.

HarletteBand

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