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Acid Jack was born the son of a local prostitute and an American Embassy worker in Hamburg, Germany in July of 1973. His mother was murdered when he was four, presumably by his father, who had him shipped off a month later to live with an aunt and uncle in the United States. Raised in Little Rock, Arkansas, Acid Jack was nine years old when his uncle, a government scientist researching the effects of hallucinogenic drugs on children, introduced him to the drug that would earn him his name. For nearly five years he was unknowingly used as a guinea pig, ingesting untold amounts of LSD, mushrooms, and experimental medications. As dosages slowly increased, so did his bizarre behavior. By the age of thirteen Jack had become well-known for wearing only green (the color he claimed would ward off demons), riding a donkey to and from school, and being banned from Wal-Mart and Waffle House for life. After attempting to perform a “reverse-Exorcism” on his chemistry teacher, he was forcefully admitted to a psychiatric hospital. It was during his time in the asylum (1987-98) that he met Manfred Leytig, the psychedelic rock pioneer and future techno innovator who liked to refer to his many asylum incarcerations as “rock sabbaticals”. Though Manfred quickly turned Jack on to the joys of music, it would be another eight years before the asylum staff would trust Jack with a keyboard, loop generator, sequencer, and 4-track recorder. His earliest recordings, never officially released but bootlegged world-wide, earned him a cult following, particularly in Korea and his native Germany, where 30-minute trance tracks like “Lick My Donkey Drops” and “Brain Encapsulation No. 636” were all the craze. It wasn’t until the asylum staff switched from piping improvisational jazz to top 40 through the ward that Jack began showing mental recovery and a penchant for 3 and ˝ minute pop tunes, bizarre though some may be. About 1/3 of The Jackacids’ first album was recorded during his last year in the asylum. Upon Jack’s release Manfred introduced him to Hambone, a music prodigy capable of playing every instrument known to man. Hambone, a certified genius with an IQ of 857, had experience under his belt, having toured with Starship, The Fabulous Thunderbirds, Rancid, and Nirvana . An Eastern philosopher who had also spent 6 years in Asahikawa, Japan studying the ways of the samurai; he was just the kind of leverage that a man suffering an average of five flashbacks a day needed. Hambone would appear on Jack’s first two albums and become a full-fledged member of the band in 2002. Hambone in turn introduced Jack to Chris Moore, who was in the early stages of putting together East Hall Recording, a music studio in Fayetteville, Arkansas. It was with the help of these two people that he finished his first album, “Fast Food Generation”, in 1999. Although considered an artistic success, the album was a financial flop, being “too weird” for American audiences and “too American” for German and Korean fans. Although his next album, the e.p. “Will Success Spoil Acid Jack?”, received praise from critics and Koreans world-wide (Germany was going through its Hasselhoff craze and had forgotten The Jackacids.), Jack claimed to have absolutely no recollection of recording the album. He even attempted to sue his own band (which still consisted of only himself) for stealing his ideas. This attempted lawsuit led to his being dropped from EMI Records, which had signed him only a week before. Some saw this as proof of Jack’s insanity, while others were convinced it was all just a part of an elaborate act, and a good way to get out of an unfair record contact. Undeterred, and apparently out of his mind, Acid Jack began work on his next album. Recorded in two days using only a Casio keyboard, two coffee cans, and his voice (Bobby McFerrin style), “Jack In: Jack Off” is perhaps the most disturbing mental breakdown ever captured on tape. It will also most likely never see the light of day, having been locked away deep in The Jackacids’ vault after East Hall Records refused to release it. Jack knew that if he was ever going to get his career back on track, he would have to get psychological and pharmaceutical help, and that’s exactly what he did during a four month “rock sabbatical” at the Helsinki Institute. Sober in more ways than one, Jack was ready to begin again in February of 2002. His first step was to make Hambone a full-fledged member of the band. This was just what The Jackacids needed. As well as expanding the musical range of the band’s sound immensely, Hambone took over much of the group’s representation, handled the press, and answered much of the fan mail. It was Hambone who convinced Jack to put on a live performance at the Arkansas Opry of the Ozarks on May 17, 2002. What would seem like a recipe for disaster wound up being an undeniable success as The Jackacids played an entire show of straight-forward rock and roll renditions of Acid’s old electronic songs as well as new songs that proved he was more than capable of writing radio-ready music for a mass-audience. The concert was such a success that the entire show (except for a scorching rendition of “Everlasting Rot”, lost forever due to a careless accident involving a drunk fan named “Devon”) was released on CD as “is it LIVE or is it THE JACKACIDS?” in early 2003. Acid Jack has just recently returned to the studio with Hambone to begin work on The Jackacids’ fourth album. They hope to perform more live shows after its release. |
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Born and raised in a New England fishing village in the late 1970’s, Coney Island Whitefish Boy cut his teeth on both fish and funk. Surrounded by old world architecture and a rich cultural history, it was only natural that the gods of classic rock influence this young man. Always open to new opportunities, he left home at the tender age of 14 and found work strumming his guitar outside the tents of a traveling circus. Even though he developed a small following with such a gig, he was more tolerated by the Circus owners than actually employed by them. However, a freak accident with a feeding tank forever changed his role in the sideshow circuit. It was here that he received the name Coney Island Whitefish Boy, and he spent the next several months in a brine-filled tank of seawater as his guitar sat idly by collecting dust. After gaining notoriety as a sideshow attraction, Coney Island Whitefish Boy managed to talk the circus owners into allowing him to incorporate his guitar playing into the act. Though his budget for strings and rust-free metal guitar parts often came close to eating his entire paycheck, he didn’t seem to mind the expense. He could finally express himself musically again, and when the circus became defunct he simply strapped his guitar to his back and moved on. It took some time for him to gain his land legs again, but once he did his gills dropped off shortly afterward. His sideshow travels had brought him down the east coast to Florida, and he wandered west in search of like-minded musicians. He eventually found his way through the rugged terrain of the Ozarks, where he met the musical megalith known as The Posse. The two formed a solid friendship that would later prove to be a necessary, albeit fishy, adhesive to the East Hall Boys Choir. Brother Whitefish has recently spawned, adding yet another future member to the legacy of the East Hall Boys Choir. |
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With an intense love and respect for Eastern thought, few would believe that Hambone’s essence has roots in the dark side. This bald monk of musical mayhem rose from the cavernous depths of his home one morning to give birth to the brainchild that became East Hall. According to legend, Hambone awoke long before dawn with a feeling that something in the universe was not quite right. He rubbed his bald head and furrowed his brow in frustration. Something was out of sync, and harmony could not be found. After intense meditation failed him, Hambone knew that the usual incense and prayers were to no avail. He moistened his fingers, extinguished his incense sticks, and prepared for more drastic measures. Donning a g-string made from a yeti pelt that he purchased in Tibet, he lit several candles around his old Tascam 4-track cassette recorder and prepared to commune with the other side. Knowing that there was no turning back, Hambone said a quick prayer for his soul and plugged the Tascam directly into a 120-volt household outlet. He laid hands on the machine and switched it on. The flash of electricity from the wall socket lit up Hambone’s skull like an X-ray. The house filled with smoke, and cities for miles around experienced complete losses of power. Hambone, however, was fully charged. What exactly emanated forth from his lips during this “religious experience” is unknown, but many hushed tones whisper rumors about it being the origins of the East Hall Boys Choir. After Hambone’s revelation, the pilgrims of East Hall seemed to just find their ways to him. With each new member, order and harmony was restored. Hambone maintains his rightful place as the man with the plan for East Hall, though the sessions themselves are often spontaneous and unrehearsed. He moves like a maestro from instrument to instrument, and when the smoke clears from each session he diverts his attention to sliders and buttons on the mixing boards. From his perch in the parsonage to his place in the choir, Hambone is one member that plays and practices what he preaches. |
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The man called Manfred Leytig is an enigma. Little is known of his past, and most of what is known can only be classified as rumor or speculation. The approximate date of his birth ranges anywhere from the mid 1970’s back to the early 40’s, and some would swear that he has simply always existed. His appearance might appear static for several years at a time, but he has been rumored to have every hair color in the spectrum, as well as being bald as a cue ball with no hope for hair growth. Finding the man in the present day, it seems, is as fruitless a task as finding his story in the past. His childhood was spent in Romania, where he was orphaned as a toddler. Adopted and later abandoned by German tourists, Manfred found his way moving across Europe. Little is known of his teenage years, but his early adulthood is marred with frequent stays in and out of various asylums. It was during a stay in one of these institutions (which Leytig affectionately dubbed as his “Rock Sabbaticals”) where he met the musical genius Acid Jack. The two formed an ironic yet solid friendship based on them being misunderstood outcasts in a world of conforming sheep. Thus two of the black sheep had formed a part of the East Hall flock. A parting of ways did little to keep these two from meeting again, and by the time they did the other members of the Boys Choir had joined the fold. Ask any member of the group what they know of Manfred, and they’ll probably reply that they know enough. What is important is the bond the group holds, and they know that when it comes time to make music that Leytig will be there. |
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MC Grand Masta Slab might not be the Master of Ceremonies for the Boys Choir, but he does have the pretty boy looks to be the front man. His need for speed and performance is clearly reflected in his guitar playing, and his offstage antics often put him in the spotlight. In an ironic twist of character, however, this thrill seeking extrovert has chosen a role that puts him nestled in the very center of the band. His blistering riffs and polished licks are second to none, and it’s evident upon meeting Slab that he can outplay, outcurse, and outdrink anyone in the tri-state area. Slab arrived on the scene when the brainchild that was East Hall was forming in Hambone’s mind. A friend from Hambone’s past, it didn’t take long for Slab to acclimate and claim his rightful place in the group. Toss in the elements of Acid Jack and Manfred Leytig, and the East Hall family had its very beginnings. Over the years Slab has shown his versatility by moving from guitar to drums and percussion whenever the need arose, and his abilities in the studio are surpassed only by his sense of humor; both vital elements in the East Hall Boys Choir. His talent is so strong that many say he was born with a guitar in his hands, and his mother claims to have the scars to prove it. This child of the mid 70’s was raised on tunes in the classic rock canon, and he can throw down classic sounds at the drop of a foghat. When things take a turn for the 80’s and 90’s, he pays ample tribute to the guitar virtuosos of both eras. Though he can emulate the best of the best, he still manages to bring something unique and original to the Boys Choir sessions. |
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The life of Milkdud is a story wrought with paralyzing gastrointestinal pain and the resulting isolation. Stricken with debilitating lactose intolerance since birth (hence the name), Milkdud quickly learned to fill his companionless hours with music. Before encountering conventional instruments, he honed his composing chops using the sound of his own evacuating flatus. “It was a very magical experience,” explains Milkdud. “My first piece was titled ‘Anal Melancholy at the Bottom of a Milk Jug in D minor’. It was of course only composed as a second movement. Amazing as it seems, I had achieved rectal musicality by developing extreme muscle control in my lower bowels with a result of pooting with pitch. Of course I could only tune to natural resonance, A=432, which made it really hard to jam with folks. Not that they’d [fellow musicians] stay in same room with me for any length of time. Plus I could only do acoustic sets, because it’s really hard to mike the ol’ quarter inch subwoofer effectively without a lot of lubrication.” Since his posterior was incapable of capturing his musical vision and the price of whole milk was on the rise, Milkdud began his search for an instrument that would be a suitable replacement. “In the beginning of my search I experimented with harmonica and tuba because of the obvious parallel of the timbre of these instruments with the sound of breaking wind.” Eventually, his search led him to the electric bass. “It was a more suitable than guitar due to the underlying phallic and Freudian connections.” However, the learning curve for his new instrument was daunting. “The bass is easy, but my hands were usually white-knuckle fisted to help bare the agony of trapped gas in my gullet. You know, I can never leave that damn pizza alone, and that cheese is ass-trauma waiting to happen! Anyway, I had to develop an alternative technique to typical bass playing. I call it no-hand slap bass.” One can only imagine which appendage Milkdud utilizes to execute this technique. “I’ve gotten some interesting calluses,” grins Milkdud. His new virtuosic way of playing bass of course lead to some off-color music. “Imagine what it would sound like if a walrus learned to tap dance while simultaneously mating with a dying penguin. Yep, that describes it.” However, this different sound led to more musical isolation for Milkdud. He had trouble holding bands together, so he ventured into the realm of solo bass, resulting in two solo bass albums. “Yeah, my solo bass albums rule. Everyone should buy a couple of copies of each. They are really that good. Absolutely no dying penguin sounds appear on those discs… well, only a little bit. Buy ‘em anyway. I like to keep a fat belly and stay warm in the winter.” Even though Milkdud makes his living as a solo bassist, he loves to rock out with a full band. The eventual hookup with the Choir readily fit the bill. “These guys can really throw down, and they don’t mind my stench all that much. Hell, they stank as much as I do on my worst day.” Regardless of situation, Milkdud stays in tune with his musical roots. “I gotta keep it funky, and the funk comes from my guts… quite literally.” |
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Born in the late 1970’s into a loving family, the young man known as The Posse was surrounded by music. Classic rock rocked his cradle, and the grunge movement fueled his fiery teenage soul. In his late teenage years he made a small living by cleaning pools, often donning a diving suit of his own creation. He caught some attention with the diving suit, but it never caught on or caught up with industry standards. His music, however, caught on quickly. He learned every song he ever played by ear, and with incredible accuracy. His versatility and willingness to move from instrument to instrument caused many to believe that he had sold his soul, but when pressed on the matter he only kisses two fingers, touches them to his forehead, and raises them in the air. Why he does this is anyone’s guess. But there’s no question as to why musicians often flock to his side. This versatile artist quickly earned a reputation for brilliantly playing every instrument he touched, and thus he became known as The Posse; a one-man band playing music to beat the devil. According to legend, The Posse was jamming one day by his lonesome. The sounds of his music traveled across town and hit the ears of a wandering vagabond called Coney Island Whitefish Boy. Drawn to the music, Whitefish found his way to the tapping foot of The Posse. Whitefish unsheathed his six-string axe, and the rest was history. The two have been collaborating ever since. It was only natural that when one joined the Boys Choir, the other soon followed. |
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