Little Hurricane in SI

Little Hurricane was featured in Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition



The stage at a Little Hurricane gig is like an old Kodachrome photo of your grandparents’ living room. A dainty lamp sits atop a white nightstand. A beaten yellow suitcase lies propped in the corner. A wooden radio glows. Celeste (C.C.) Spina hops on her drum stool wearing a baby-blue house dress. In a vest and tie, Tony (Tone) Catalano looks as if he just got home from the office, hungry for meatloaf. The boy-girl blues act hollers and moans, swapping vocals in tales of tough, turbulent love. Tone’s slide guitar and C.C.’s pounding toms at times sound like an argument. Heck, the duo titled its debut Homewrecker. You expect that furniture to get trashed. But it doesn’t. Those props are speakers in disguise.

Tone, who grew up in Santa Cruz, California, staring at the surf through the window in math class, turns domestic life into rock & roll weaponry. A gearhead with a nostalgic bent, he worked in a vintage motorcycle repair shop and in recording studios. He began crafting guitar slides from wine bottles as a hobby. Now he does it out of necessity, because he wears the suckers down so quickly. C.C. slaved away in restaurant kitchens. Perhaps that’s what leads the Chicago native to coo a line like, “You and me, we’re like biscuits and gravy,” as she sweetly tells her bad boy in “Crocodile Tears.”

What’s the strangest thing the San Diego duo has written a song about? “We were doing a photo shoot, and the property next to where we were was full of massive mounds of dirt covered in plastic,” C.C. recalls. “It was a relocated ancient Indian burial ground that was accidentally uncovered during construction.” Yeah, that’s right in Little Hurricane’s wheelhouse. Even when appearances are quaint, there’s darkness beneath.

The rest of the interview here.