Danny and Donnie Dingle were born at 11:59 a.m., April 29, 1974, in the spaghetti-thin aisle of a 757-passenger plane as it zipped through the stratosphere somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. Only two days in to a much-needed Hawaiian vacation, Marvin and Faringa Dingle were forced to rush home to Makanda, Illinois, as Faringa felt the tail end of a 9-month run coming on a little too soon. During the break between first dinner and second dinner, Marvin was awoken by the unusually strong grip of his wife's hand as she grasped firmly the unflexed muscles of his left quadricep, just before letting loose a scream that totally freaked out a bunch of people. The next thing he knew, Marvin was holding Faringa down as a tall, slender flight attendant with 6 credits of college-level Human Anatomy and Physiology held her hands out like a Sumo wrestler - poised as a net. To her grand surprise, however, as well as to the shock of an entire plane full of bored elderly, she got hit by, not one, not two, but four fastballs. A man laughed when the placenta slipped on to his mini-pillow. Years later, Faringa would testify in a court of law as follows: "It seemed obvious to me that everyone aboard the plane had witnessed the blessing of two miracles on that long flight back to the Winnebagos and Watergates of their needless lives." In the end, Danny defiled himself and Donnie threw up, but it quickly became clear that these two life forms represented much more than just shit and puke. They symbolized the start of a new day. That day was, appropriately enough, April 30, 1974.
Upon returning to the States, Faringa and Marvin spent the day at Los Angeles' acclaimed Good Samaritan Hospital, where tests were done on the boys to determine their health. Danny was born with a cleft palate, leaving him burdened by a rare form of hypernasality called Bugs Bunny Syndrome, whereas the sound of his voice actually resembled that of the famous animated hare. Only through intense therapy sessions during the first seven years of his life would Danny overcome this disability, although not entirely. Donnie entered this world blind. He screamed intensely for five hours after leaving his mothers womb. Miraculously, however, on the day of his eleventh birthday, after a violent tornado had ripped through the Golden Hills Trailer Park in nearby Vienna, Illinois, Donnie began to recognize blurred shapes and patterns. Two days later he could spot an ingrown pubic hair on a rat's scrotum. As an ironic twist, of the seventeen musical instruments he had learned to play, Donnie only retained three: guitar, harmonica, and percussion. These days, he dabbles in electronica, but its not the same.
By the time they reached Carbondale High School, Danny and Donnie were considered outcasts. They consistently filled their days with extended toke sessions down by the banks of the Big Muddy River, football games to cheer on the opposing schools, and, of course, intense musical studies. Danny took to classical guitar through the influences of early 19th century composer Fernando Sor (1778-1839) whose pioneer work established the guitar, with its recently added sixth string, as a solo instrument of considerable capacity, and Mario Castelnuovo Tedesco (1895-1968) who was one of the most creative and versatile composers of our century. Donnie fed off his love of psycadelics, pulling inspiration from the space-aged sounds of the 1970s -- David Bowie, Frank Zappa, Becker and Fagen, and Elton John, to name just a few. This eclectic mix of styles and sounds served the twins well at the 1988 high school talent show, where they blew the roof off. Fortunately for the Dingles, England Barnacle, the famed talent scout and Hollywood producer, was in the audience that evening -- as he was in town visiting his sister and her family. Barnacle pulled the boys aside after the show and offered them two apple-flavored Blow Pops, as a show of good faith. The two accepted, and so began a relationship that would span almost two decades, and still going strong.
Barnacle pumped a healthy chunk of his vast resources in to the potential he saw in the young duo. He booked the brothers on local talk shows, in music stores, on rooftops, in back alleys and even underwater. He pushed the Dingles quirky sound on to mainstream radio for a short-lived run in the Tallahasee area. As the ball started rolling, Barnacle recommended that the boys experiment with different styles to improve their images. Danny began shaving only the left side of his face, and the right side of his scalp. He wore checkered clothing and a different watch on either wrist -- one digital, the other with gears. Donnie covered almost every inch of his body. He wore turtlenecks and a wool hat, pulled down below his ears. He sported sunglasses indoors and his underwear on the outside of his pants. The two were like night and day, black and white, fire and ice, PC and Mac. Not all was a Wonderland, however. The brothers' alternating styles began to influence their personalities. Donnie became reserved and painfully introverted. He wouldn't share songs with Danny until the actual day of recordings. He was defensive and difficult to work with, eventually remaining silent throughout the entire session of their 1992 masterwork, The Elusive Four. He would record the vocals with Barnacle, weeks after the instrument tracks were finished. Danny, on the other hand, threw himself in to the whirlwind world of fame and fortune. He stayed out late, partying with loose women and even looser men. It's safe to say that Danny was extremely interested in experimentation. Amazingly, however, he never missed a meeting, appointment or recording date. His passion for music was strong, and the Dingles meant everything to Danny. This would carry the boys through the tough times, and help them soar when things connected.
By the time the brothers graduated from high school, they were nearly household names within Southern Illinois. They toured throughout the region, frequenting local hang-outs such as PK Zyla's and the Lost Cross. By this time in the early 90s, Carbondale had become a haven for music acts who, understandably, latched on to the 'grunge' style that had become the norm in popular music. Flannel shirts and torn blue jeans dominated the strip from The Cellar all the way down to Gatsby's. Friday and Saturday nights became known for crowd-surfing, stage-diving, mud-flapping frenzies that displaced the Dingles and their toned-down, surrealistic approach. Soon, spots that had been mainstays for Danny and Donnie were craving the Seattle sound. On the night of August 3rd, 1993, during a stripped-down acoustic show at Fred's Barn, just outside the city, one over-zealous female audience member started shouting the name, 'Eddie Vedder,' with uncompromising consistency. Shaken but stern, the Dingles continued their set. The young girl resumed her barrage, eventually climbing on to the bar after swiping a pen from the bartender and scratching the phrase 'pro-choise' on to her forearm [actual spelling error]. Donnie had seen enough. Without waiting for his brother, he stormed off the stage and drove back to Makanda alone. Always the professional, Danny finished the show with compassionate cover versions of "Jeremy" and "Alive." Later, he took home the girl with ink on her arm and made her squeal.
Frustrated, Donnie quit writing music. He got a job at a landscaping company in Carbondale and kept to himself during the evening. This was an especially difficult time for the Dingle brothers. Danny felt that their music style was something that needed to be nurtured by continuing to play live and recording prolifically. Any lull in the band's public appearances, he felt, could cause a spiral in to obscurity that could doom their chances for stardom. Donnie, always the realist, understood that the fan base had already been established. He thought the break could be good for record sales, as anticipation for their next album could reach a frenzy. Danny accepted this rationale with reluctance and tried to make the best of the situation. He recorded several 30-second mini-songs with lyrics discussing such broad topics as the importance of federal funding for space exploration, how to stay warm during the winter months, and a hip-hop influenced spoken word piece about soft-shell crabs. He copied these songs on tapes and would randomly drop them off at different spots throughout the Midwest states of Illinois, Indiana, Missouri, Kentucky, and Tennessee. The idea worked. Soon, local radio stations began bookending hits by Alice in Chains, Primus and Nirvana with Danny's short musical vignettes. Meanwhile, Donnie was saving money from his landscaping work. He began to build up an arsenal of processing effects and sound-altering devices to expand on the Dingles' traditionally stripped-down sound. Although skeptical, Danny was open to this new opportunity. He just wanted to play again. He would have no idea, however, just how bright the spotlight would get for the brothers.
With three tapes of music under their collective belt, Drinking on Sunday (1991), The Elusive Four (1992), and If I had no hands, I couldn't play my guitar (1993), the brothers had built up a heavy catalog of songs to bring out to live shows. Soon, fans began shouting requests during their performances. On one fateful night, May 27th, 2004, at a crammed early concert on the corner stage at Pinch'a'Penny in Carbondale, a young male fan pushed his way to front and started incessantly calling for the Donnie-penned Sailors. The brothers humored the kid with playful banter, all while ignoring the request from the obviously intoxicated fan. His call for the song did not subside, however, even through the next two or three tunes. Finally, motivated by what he would later admit was jealously, Danny thrusted the head of his guitar at the concert-goer's face, slicing a gash in his cheek. A mini-riot was sparked, and the brothers got caught up in it. All told, the Dingles were banned for life from playing the club and the fan got Danny's guitar with autograph in an out-of-court settlement. The incident was just one of many bizarre occurances in the lives of these two unique songsters.
