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!
 

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!

 

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.

 

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.

  


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!

 

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.

 
Madame Miss Funi

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...?