Unknown Passage: The Dead Moon Story CAST
“ DEAD MOON”
FRED COLE – Guitar & Vocals
TOODY COLE – Bass & Vocals
ANDREW LOOMIS – Drums

Established: 1987

New York Times Magazine section article about Dead Moon.

Dead Moon, a three-piece from Clackamas, OR, is known for its own particular brand of rootsy garage punk. Their music conjures images of hard-luck easy riders and lovers against the world. While their sound alternates between moody and aggressive, it is always remarkably genuine and energetic.

The band is fronted by the husband-wife team of Fred and Toody Cole. Fred, a living rock & roll legend, began his enduring musical career at the very young age of 15. Many years and many bands later (after living through experiences as varied as homesteading in the Yukon, dodging the Vietnam War draft, and hunting bears), the two formed a punk band called the Rats in 1979. After adding Andrew Loomis on drums, Dead Moon was formed in 1987. They are frequently on the road in Europe, where they have a huge and devoted following.
For almost 20 years, Dead Moon has released multiple LPs on their own Tombstone label. Many of these releases are vinyl only, and were cut on the same vinyl cutting lathe that the Kingsmen's version of Louie Louie was cut on back in 1963.

~ Alex Zorn, All Music Guide

More Articles:

This power-trio is unlike any band you know. The guitarist and bass player, Fred and Toody Cole, are married, and they've been that way since 1967. They're grandparents. And they still rock hard. Drummer Andrew Loomis is the greenhorn, approaching the age of his colleagues only in “dog years.”
On paper, it's easy to get the wrong impression. “Rock & roll grandparents” conjures the grotesque image of aging hipsters dragging their sagging geriatric asses around a stage in a futile endeavor to recapture a squandered youth. Dead Moon are living it, just like they have since the '60s, and living it on their own terms. In an era when “indie cred” looms like the holy grail over many alterna-bands, Dead Moon no longer chase the grail—they tip their ashes into it.
Simply put, Dead Moon are old enough to know better. They know damned well that Sony will never make them rock stars. And they also know that any label that got near their music would have to tamper with it. “You gotta realize,” Toody says, between helping customers at the family music shop, “that from our standpoint it's almost comical. I mean, we're both 54 right now. We'll turn 55 this year. So, whoever you're dealing with—whether it's an A&R guy, or a promoter, or whoever—is 20-something usually, and it's hard to not feel like you know more, and it's hard to take it seriously.”
Cranky comments about “playing rock music when you were swimmin' in yer daddy's balls” ring strangely true in Fred's case—his first band was as a 15 year old in 1964, covering rock songs up and down the strip in Vegas. After being touted as a White Stevie Wonder (“Deep Soul Cole”) Fred formed the Weeds, which Universal Records forced them to change to “the Lollipop Shoppe.” After that, Fred was in Zipper, King Bee, the Rats (a well-known regional punk outfit), and Western Front (a cowpunk group) before convening Dead Moon.
Because they answer to no one, Dead Moon make their own records (on the same mono lathe on which The Kingsmen's “Louie Louie” was mastered), they make their own decisions, and they only hit the road if they can come home with a little extra cash to show for their efforts. No contracts. No tour buses. No hotel rooms to trash. No airplay. No advertising. And no nattily-attired guy in the mixing booth “suggesting” that horn stings would give them a fuller sound. They're never getting rich, it's true, but they are free, which is more than some of the biggest rock stars can claim.

-I think this article was from pandemonuim but the link is down now.

Blindfold the horses and give 'em the spurs. For years now, Dead Moon, Portland's never-give-an-inch rock 'n' roll pride, has epitomized a unique, degenerative pioneer ideal, a refusal to recognize that the frontier stomping grounds of its lean, frayed-at-the-edges music may have long since closed. No matter that time may have passed over the value system shared by legendary guitarist and vocalist Fred Cole, his wife, bassist and vocalist Toody (both of whom still play it rough-hewn and heartfelt past the age of 50), and their essential drummer, Andrew Loomis, a relative sprout somewhere in his late 30s. Nearly every foam-speckled song Dead Moon has ever led out of the corral glows with a brand signifying that it's the ride that matters, not where you put up at night. Never has the band said it better than on its most recent release, Destination X. Defined by a sense of hard-won, decrepit elegance, DX is equal parts rocker, anthem and ballad. It's a prairie-lost herd of songs that stampedes past points of no return and grazes on fields of self-destruction. Confusion and despair rule the night, but throughout DX, ultimate success is measured by true love's ability to hang on for the ride, all the way out. Always a band of romance, Dead Moon kicks it up a notch on Destination X. May its members never part ways. ---Sam Soule