Residents considered themselves at the time to be "outsiders" within the Santa Cruz music scene, and took pains to "dis" other houses and bands "hella". There were several 4:00 AM calls to the Broadway House challenging residents of that hipster mecca to drinking contests in neutral territory. No such contests ever occurred.
Residents also, for a time, considered converting wholesale to a completely beer-based economic system, seeing as it was impossible to drink dollar bills.
There weren't many shows at the Crunkhowse, but the few that happened there were pure diabolical magic, a celebration of near-total self-destruction as a means to self-creation. The fire-breathing antics of the Keystone Eyes' lead singer Tyson became common practice among folks who coveted the powers of Crunk. These individuals, more often than not, proved themselves to be hella sketch.
Such local acts as Pedestrian, the Virgin Marys, Motor Over Motet, Hate Mail Express, and, of course the controversial Eyes graced the stained carpeting of the Crunkhowse's front room. The Howse also played host to larger players such as Rumah Sakit, and, in a show stolen from the Catalyst's limp booking team (serious), 764-Hero accompanied by a little-known indie pop quintet called The Shins.
The last show held at the Crunkhowse took place the day before the house had to be evacuated, since they were all being kicked out for being so crunk with the house. The show involved Pedestrian, the Virgin Marys (before Sayrd took up the bass for the band) and The Keystone Eyes, who played a crazy Doors inspired set. During the Pedestrian set that Nicholas Taplin started dancing around the room (amid wallflowers with arms crossed), jumping up and down with his tall frame nearly hitting the ceiling. Nicholas describes that moment as "the pivitol moment for me in my relation to SC indie rock, or music in general. I realized that a good band gives you something in their performance, and if it's a rock band, you have to give something back to make it work. The audience has the responsibilty of dancing if the music deserves it."
The bushes next to the tennis courts were the home of a couple named Kat (R.I.P.) and Marlboro, whose marital screams of joy and anger filled the Lower Ocean evenings and early mornings with a lively racket.