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Tampa, FL

The Prople play great music. Generally, as their tunes grace mortal existence, talent overflows the world, beginning at their fingertips and ending at your eye sockets, ideally dodging your ears.

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Markky Karloff


Kari Karloff


The Prople are the universe's least favorite duo of spastic extraterrestrial morons singing songs about robot weiners and the ungulate armageddon.

While the band has stolen the attention and patience of exasperated audiences in the most idiotic ways conceivable since their enigmatic genesis, the concrete origins of The Prople remain mostly a mystery. Peculating innocent stages across the state of Florida and beyond from frustrated inhabitants since as early as 2013, the band has carved out a dimension of their own underneath the floorboards of the underground music scene's polished parquet. With an accidental, yet complicatedly severe distaste for third members, the spooky weirdo punk duo aims to make up for their "lost layers" live through painfully fast, energetic and wild stage performances drawing influences from the bizarre antics of their classic shock rock forefathers. Once referred to as "the lost cousins of The Animaniacs," The Prople coat their hair-raising anthems with a repulsive and sadistic finish to fully invigorate their catchy, overly-exuberant terror tunes.

As time has emphasized, this two-headed screeching banshee cannot be killed, cannot be stopped, and surely cannot be silenced...

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