The Men With No Name

Having stretched his solo aural terrorism far and wide it could only be expected that eventually Squeezebox Sam would seek out accomplices to aid him in his endeavors of tormenting unsuspecting music listeners everywhere. He started out slow, honing his group therapy skills with like-minded open mic goers and taking advantage of performance opportunities offered him by other disenfranchised, rebellious artists. It wasn't long before fellow hot rod junkie Shamrock Shaun helped him grind out a guitar and accordion duet of Huddie Ledbetter's interpretation of the public domain tune "Where Did You Sleep Last Night?" and a nefarious partnership was born.
The short lived Squeezebox Sam and the Gas Guzzlers lasted three rehearsals in a sweltering west valley garage where the band fueled themselves with Monster Energy Drinks (trademark) and beat out some tunes seldom garbed in more than sweat socks (the players, not the tunes... yes, ugly thought, I know...). Tommy Lee and Simon Gallup decided the project simply was not for them, however, and abandoned Squeezebox Sam and Shamrock Shaun, leaving them once again to their own devices with the promise that "we can still be friends."
After a short hiatus in which Squeezebox Sam took care of minor business such as moving away from his psychotic neighbor, getting married, and vowing to take his day job more seriously, he and Shamrock Shaun sought out new blood for the band.
A shadowy figure out of Squeezebox Sam's past, Keefe "the Omen" Obrien squeezed the last life out of his 1968 Galaxie 500 just to get his drum set to the first rehearsal. A friend of Shaun's by the name of Alex showed up with intentions to play the abandoned gut-bucket taking up the corner of the dining room, but quickly re-abandoned it after a few rounds in favor of promises of being able to play Keefe's shiny black 3/4 bass at the next rehearsal. Rounding out the new lineup is Some Drunken Bastard, Squeezebox Sam's partner in crime (and now roommate) for more than twenty years. After he did pretty well on the washboard we pressed into his hands at the first rehearsal we dumped a melodica on him during the second. Then we gave him some songwriting duties. He did so well at that we decided to make him sing some, too.
With the new members promising to take time off of work and assuring each other they would actually meet regularly for rehearsal this time around, Squeezebox Sam and The Men With No Name were born.
After hammering out a few shows, including a libation-soaked tromp at the Club Good Hurt (reknowned fer it's bartenders that exist on an unfathomable plane of hotness... or maybe it was just the naughty nurse uniforms), a stint at the beyond avante-garde Bats Over Broadway (Jeremy Frankenstein outdoes himself the first friday of every month at the Blue Cafe in Long Beach and all you people out there who claim nothin' worthwhile is goin' on with live music need to get yer butts on down there), and a wild post-SuperBowl shindig at Mr. T's Bowl, Squeezebox Sam and the Men With No Name were rattlin' into high gear.
'Bout this time the band figgered it would be a good choice to unchain our Little Omen from the drum kit he had been regularly bangin' on. He was so predisposed to be spankin' things in public we figgered he'd do well spankin' his upright bow fiddle. Keefe didn't put up a fight about this redesignation of roles 'cuz he knew that the upright would just make him the prime lady-magnet of the band, anyways. This left the band without a drummer, though, so the quest was on to find someone suitable enough to fill the gap.
Following some deep discussion on the part of the band it was determined that the new drummer would necessarily have to be part animal and part caveman to achieve the primitive sound the music was begging for. When Caveman Steve showed up for a rehearsal and pulled out an Irish War Drum it was decided hands down that the new drummer for the band had been found. Since that time, The Caveman has repeatedly beaten the skins into submission. Mostly we figger he's tryin' to expose the rest of us fer the musical charlatans we all know ourselves to be, but the band has so far successfully managed to suck bad enough to keep our star rhythmist from shining like the brilliant supernova that he is.
With a wild, slappin' bass fiddle and drum rolls that'd make Alley-Oop proud, Squeezebox Sam and the Men With No Name are takin' this out of control trainwreck down the track to new heights of calamitous intent.
Then the bass player broke his stand-up... so he bought an electric bass guitar... so now we's got a wild, slappin' violin bass and drum rolls... blah blah (see above)...Just wait until we get to your town.
Here's a video of us fellers startin' out the set at Mr. T's Bowl in Highland Park on April 3rd with "Sideburner" and "Mark of Cain".
"Ghost Riders in the Sky" Squeezebox Sam and the Men With No Name crank out the quintessential cowboy admonition against the sinful life at Mr. T's Bowl in Highland Park on April 3rd. Some Drunken Bastard does the honors on vocals.
The medley of "Saint James Infirmary" (the anonymous American folksong of unknown origin) and "Where Did You Sleep Last Night?" as performed at Mr. T's Bowl on April 3rd, 2008. Catch Captain Caveman's turn on the Irish War Drum during "Where Did You Sleep"... s' absolutely primitive, yup!
Here's a video of us tearing the upstairs "Blue Room" at Long Beach's Blue Cafe a proverbial new one (and breaking some guitar strings in the bargain) with the Some Drunken Bastard fronted "Ballad of Billy McClean".
Here's a new Squeezebox Sam video to keep you entertained while you wait. It's a cover of the Danny Dill and Marijohn Wilkin penned "Long Black Veil". Since it was written in 1959, lots of folks including Lefty Frizzell, Johnny Cash, The Chieftans, and Mike Ness have recorded it. It has sounded better, but it's never LOOKED like this!
And here's another oldie and goodie from Squeezebox Sam's solo days. "Tell It To Me", the old timey standard about cocaine addiction. This video features an appearance by Some Drunken Bastard, now a full time Man With No Name.