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In 2002. The Bad Things were formed out of
the ashes of A Midnite Choir, a cult favorite in
the, then burdgeoning Seattle underground cabaret scene. Upon the demise
of the Choir, Jimmy the Pickpocket (accordion, vocals) and
Mad
Wilcox (upright bass, musical saw) began playing new songs on
the wet, Seattle sidewalks under the "Bad Things" moniker (a
name taken from the Midnite Choir's ode to alcohol DT's
"Physical Withdrawals"), eventually growing into the 6-piece
ensemble that you see today. They recorded their first CD wiith
the legendary local producer Kearney Barton (The Sonics, The
Ventures, The Kingsmen, etc.) and released it on their own
Silent City Records. The Bad Things quickly gained a reputation
for "drunken debauchery" and "feverish dancing" (The Tablet) at
their live shows and sealed their reputation as Seattle's premier
"Junkyard Cabaret Band." In 2006 The Bad Things released
their second CD "Vaudeville Show" and they show no signs of giving up
soon. Consider yourself warned! |
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Lead Vocals, Accordion
Born
in the shadows of the evergreens and the cornstalks. Born to
drink whiskey and howl sad songs at the stars to the wheeze of
the blessed accordion. They call me The Pickpocket. Look for me
by the train tracks or sitting at the bar. Cheers! |
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Contra Bass, Musical
Saw, Backing Vocals
Subject: Wilcox (aka
Mad Wilcox, aka Wilcox the butcher). Unknown as to whether
Wilcox is first or last name, as subject speaks mostly gibberish
when not inebriated. Released near the turn of the century from
a western state mental facility for the criminally insane where
he was formerly incarcerated for the brutal slayings of twelve
people. His release was the result of his council finding that
each of the victims had had connections with so called "boy
bands" many being actual members of these "bands" and therefore
each of the slaying were pronounced a public service. In spite
of this Mr. Wilcox was reassigned to a halfway house where he is
currently heavily medicated with a combination of Haldol,
Thorazine, Lithium, and top shelf Bourbon, and undergoes what
this doctor likes to refer to as musical therapy. |
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Acoustic Guitar,
Mandolin
The creature we
call Stanislav the Gypsy is the unfortunate bi-product of a
series of little-known Nazi experiments conducted in the fall of
1941. As a corallary and response to the Aryan pursuit of
Ubermensch - a pure, elite human specimen - a cadre of Hitler's
greatest minds carried out a number of tests in which the DNA of
interned Gypsys was combined with genetic material harvested
from Berlin street children and prostitutes. A handful of
mentally slow, slightly deranged infants were the result of
these reckless experiments. Stanislav was the only child of two
such misbegotten wretches. There was no place in society for him
to go; thus, he joined The Bad Things.
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Percussion,
Glockenspiel
Stevie was raised
in the woodlands of Wisconsin where he learned to play drums and
drink beer. The lure of the big city and rock stardom brought
him to Seattle. After peaking in the late 90's, he went on a
drinking and crime binge that landed him in jail. While serving
a minor sentence for soliciting meter maids for sex, he met the
Bad Things. Their promise of a new and seedier kind of life
turned him around and brought back the old passion for Polka! |
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Banjo
"Captian Panto" -
Reared in the abandoned mine shafts of the Californian gold
country, young Panto developed exceptional skills in the arts of
feeling his way around in the dark, talking to himself, playing
the banjo, and collecting newts; skills which got him nowhere in
life until he met The Bad Things. |
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Madame Miss Funi
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 Lead and Backing Vocals
Madam Miss Funi
hails from the very depths of the Mediterranean Sea where the
last clan of Lorelei reared her. Times being what they are, the
elderly sirens moved to Miami and abandoned their once great
tradition of driving men mad through melodic purging; however,
the youthful Funi having only just begun her own temptations,
struck out on her own. Wanderlust brought her into many ports
from the sweltering heat of desert sands to eternal fiestas of
Spanish lands. She rambled the world gleefully driving men mad.
When finally she tired and washed up on the western shores of
Washington, she came across a ragged group of men who seemed
immune to her taunts. Their love of rot gut whiskey, loose women
and melancholy songs proved enough to tame her angry soul, so
she joined them. But how long will this repose last before she
once again returns to her passionate love of Driving Men Mad...? |
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