"We're in that sort of limbo right now," says Cheetah Whores singer Liz O'Brien, "where we've gone from crazy, kitschy local band that people like to go see and rock out to, to where we're gonna be now."

Where that is, exactly, remains to be seen. Formed in November 2006, The Cheetah Whores is a five-woman - O'Brien, drummer Joey Pitts, guitarists Heather Jones and Meg Austin, lap steel player Therese O'Brien - and one-man (bassist Gary Douglas Archer, Jr.) operation steeped in volatility and unpredictability that thrives in spite of itself. There are tempers, plenty of alcohol, and of course the chaos that ensues when you add rock 'n' roll. But despite the hijinks - and the low-jinks - this band can play. It has a new album, "Bang Bang Baby," and recorded the theme song to the new Roger Corman-produced flick, "Sharktopus."

But vinyl and film aside, the Whores' true medium is the stage, where the band serves up badass barroom boogie with a truckload of hot-blooded soul and stone-cold r&b. It's reminiscent of an era when Ike and Tina were still doing blow and exchanging blows.

When the band locks in, it's magnificent. When it doesn't, it's equally magnificent - just watch out for flying debris.

There are plenty of bands around that pledge allegiance to the loose, to the raw, to the unexpected. And they spend months in rehearsal perfecting that calculated spontaneity. Not the Whores; sometimes they're prepared for a show, sometimes not. And sometimes it's the audience that isn't prepared. It's a nightly roll of the dice.

"They're all different," says Pitts. "We've had shows late at night where we're completely wasted and they're real sloppy, but there are these real crazy psychedelic parts with us experimenting and riffing off each other, which we never would have done, and it's really cool." So for the pure rock 'n' roll fan, there has never been a bad Cheetah Whores gig. But a few have come close. Take, for instance, the time the band plugged a male dancer into the act.

"We had him dress as a woman and strip dance," say Pitts. "And be our freaky dancer on stage."

"He tea-bagged my mom," O'Brien says. "And then Party Pat [bassist at the time] just walked off the stage." Good times.

"We tend to have good shows if there's strife between a couple people," says Pitts.

"We're like a family," Austin says. "We love each other. You fight with your family, but then the next day, it's fine. We forgive each other."

O'Brien weighs in: "You can have problems with three people or four people in a band," she says. "We're keeping a band together with six people."

The band endures despites the ups and downs. The band faced the worst possible scenario when it was first starting out, when bassist Shalonda Simpson was murdered in August 2007. Earlier this month Tahsean K. Eaves was sentenced to 25 years to life in prison for her murder.

"The worse thing that could ever happen to a band happened to us," Pitts says. "It brought us together. It also made us kind of depressed. But it definitely gave us the resolve to keep going," she says.

Knowing its background, the band's humor, recklessness, and joy seems more acute, since it springs from a place of loss and pain.

Frankly, it's kind of hard to distinguish a good show from a bad one with this band. The Whores put on a great performance no matter how crumby the circumstances or how shitty its members feel. The disaster is always frosted with fun, like a wrecking ball wearing a tiara.

"I think one of the funnest shows ever was at The Valentines Day Massacre," says Pitts. "We went on at like 2:30 in the morning. It was Liz's birthday and we gave her a cake and she cried and we smashed it. We played a Rod Stewart song and everyone was going nuts."

A good show for O'Brien is "any time we get paid at the end of the night," she says.

But it can't stay loose forever; the band has recently begun to hone its chops at The Standard Lounge's open mic night every Sunday.

"We're the house band," says Pitts. "So we actually get to jam out with each other, which I think is going to be really, really good for us."

O'Brien agrees. "You can sit there in a band practice and not get anything done the whole night you're there," she says. "An open jam actually makes you have to perform and practice at the same time."

But at the core of the Whores is something that can't be fixed, or broken, or completely understood; its soul. Every note that comes out of this band, every beat, every lick, is honest and without forethought. This band is genuine. O'Brien's alto is bright and creamy, sexified by its share of cigarettes. She anchors herself center stage and wails, one hand on the mic, and one hand holding a drink with equal priority. The choreography on stage is essentially a function of each musician's approach to her (or his) instrument. Time is kept with a hip sway, a head nod, and a foot stomp except, in the case of Pitts, who pummels and swings all four limbs maniacally, like Keith Moon with boobs.

Still, the Cheetah Whores isn't all slop and sleaze. In fact, the bedlam is frequently ignited by the audience. When it really counts, the band can pull it - and keep it - together. When Hollywood calls, there's no time for screwing around.

B-movie bigwig Roger Corman was working on his latest thriller, "Sharktopus." For those of you oblivious to context clues, sharktopus is an underwater beast that's half shark, half octopus.

"He needed a trashy soundtrack," O'Brien says. "And we were the band to do it."

O'Brien's uncle, Declan O'Brien, directed the flick and brought The Cheetah Whores (which could actually be the title of a Corman flick) and "Sharktopus" together. The demo of this sensational swingin' surf a-go-go tune was written and recorded in four days in Pitts' living room. The final version, and the rest of "Bang Bang Baby," was recorded at Saxon Studios. The Whores tune "Hot Rod Hell Kitten" is also featured in the movie.

Since being posted on YouTube, the movie trailer - which features the Cheetah Whores' theme music - has received close to 500,000 hits.

"We have fans in Kenya, Europe, and North Carolina," Pitts says.

The album will be released at the screening of the movie here in Rochester. From there, it's that limbo O'Brien mentioned before. But the Cheetah Whores are ready.

"We all have jobs we wouldn't mind quitting," Pitts says. "We're ready to go." This most likely includes a change in behavior - or maybe not.

"We're the Cheetah Whores," says O'Brien. "We're not the Cheetah Pretty Princesses."

"We're Hamilton Street trash," Archer says. Still, Pitts thinks they can clean up the act a bit behavior-wise and rehearsal-wise.

No more drunken pandemonium? No more squabbles? No more tea-bagging?

"Well, you know," says Jones. "Some things can stay."

The Cheetah Whores

Play the "Sharktopus" Premiere Party w/Root Hogs

Saturday, September 25

Standard Lounge, 655 Monroe Ave.

7 p.m. | free | 473-2447

Cheetahwhores.com