The heat index in Sturgis pushed past a hundred on the second day of the rally, and the four guys sitting across from me had already sweated through a full set at the Loud American Roadhouse. Booze n Tuna, out of Bismarck, North Dakota. First time playing the world’s largest motorcycle rally, and they walked in swinging.

I asked if the heat was a shock coming from up north. Gavin, the lead singer, waved it off. “When you’re deprived of oxygen to the brain, what does it even mean?”

That’s roughly the energy of the whole band.

The name came out of somebody’s refrigerator

Garrett, the lead guitarist, has answered the band name question a few thousand times. He opened with, “I mean, we never get asked this question ever,” which got a laugh out of everybody at the table.

The story goes back to a party at Tayler’s place, years before any of this. Tayler plays drums, and at the time he was living the bachelor life, which meant his fridge held alcohol and tuna fish and nothing else. A buddy opened it, took inventory out loud, and told them it’d make a great band name.

Everybody was drinking. Nobody expected to remember it.

“Next thing we know, we got a logo,” Garrett said. “We’re on the marquee and we’ve been riding it for almost ten years now.”

Ben, the bass player, added that the guy who named them still hasn’t asked for royalties.

Eighties rock is the foundation, and you can hear the rest of it

Gavin grew up in Missouri near Branson, surrounded by family who played bluegrass, country, and gospel. He learned the songs sitting in a garage listening to his grandpa’s radio while somebody worked on a car. He jokes that picking heavy rock was the fastest way to annoy all of them.

Ben’s education came from theft. His brother and sister were about fifteen years older, so he raided his brother’s CD collection while he was away at college, then took a beating when the guy came home. He says he got very good at hiding.

All of that ends up in the songs. Their album, Instant Gratification, was built to let the influences show without turning into a copy of anything.

“I can go through our songs and I can be like, well, here’s kind of an AC/DC kind of vibe,” Garrett said. “Here’s a little bit of a Dokken vibe. Here’s some Ted Nugent vibe here.”

Gavin put a finer point on it. “We’re not playing it to pander to anybody. This is the kind of music that we love.”

The scream that needed a spotter

Their Motorhead tribute has a small piece of choreography built into it. Gavin steps off stage, Ben moves up to sing “Ace of Spades” from behind the bass, and Booze n Tuna becomes a three piece for a few minutes. Motorhead’s exact lineup, on purpose.

Ben will tell you the screaming vocals wreck you. He’s gotten better at them. He also drops a scream into “Cat Scratch Fever” for the fun of watching the room react.

Half an hour before we sat down, he let one go that lasted longer than anybody expected.

“I don’t know if anybody caught it,” Gavin said. “But I ran behind him in case he passed out. I was ready to catch him and his guitar.”

Why a rock band belongs at this rally

Booze n Tuna spends a lot of the summer playing fairs, where part of the gig is talking strangers into wandering over. Sturgis operates on different terms.

“There’s one thing that people want to do, and that’s go to live music and they want to rock, rock and roll,” Gavin said. “They’re here to see what you got. And they know because you’re in Sturgis, you’re good.”

Ben described the strange stamina the town hands out. “You don’t know you’re tired until you get to the hotel. It’s like you feed off of everybody.”

Gavin got a taste of the other side of that on Main Street. Somebody recognized him from the show and said so out loud, and a small crowd formed around a guy nobody else could identify. Phones came out. He’s fairly certain a few people in that circle went home believing they’d met Jelly Roll.

He’s already sold on coming back. The band plays the Loud American pavilion again this weekend, Friday and Saturday, under the tent.

“For the love of goodness, I need a break,” Gavin said. “Give me a couple days. I’ll be back on top.”

DISCLOSURE: The HomeSlice Group, the parent company of the Rapid City Post, is the marketing company for the Loud American who booked Booze N’ Tuna for it’s first Rally appearance.