“Hot Damn Scandal performs music that seems to be carved out of the broken heart of the American dream… you feel like you have heard these songs all your life. These are your favorite boots, your lucky hat, your Saturday night shirt, Your old dog that disappeared after the rain”
– Scot Casey
“It’s as if Django Reinhardt himself is sitting in with them, in spirit and sound”
– Anna Rankin, What’s up Magazine
“The songs are a mix of raucous minor key rockers and arrestingly tender ballads.”
– Robert Sarazin Blake
“Verily I say unto you… [hot] damned [scandal]… is… great”
– Jesus Christ
“This… group… is… just [tits]”
– Ronald Reagan
Born into a cult, Mickey Stylin escaped the clutches of eternal "salvation" and redirected his time on Earth to worship the bass. Outside of Hot Damn Scandal he can be seen in other bands such as The DiTrani Brothers and The Tejon Street Corner Thieves.
Ani Banani will cut you. What did you say?! Don't look at her like that. She. Will. Cut. You.
Yes, the saw is sharp.
Hot Damn Scandal finds its songs under park benches and in forgotten alleyways.
The resulting outlaw ballads, dirty jazz, circus freakouts, shanty-rags, string band funk, lonesome heart-breakers, and whiskey bottle love songs blend together in a sweet song syrup somewhere between a ramble and a roar.
Hot Damn Scandal pulls no punches and puts thunder in your molasses.
Pete Irving wrote most of these songs, so you can probably paint for yourself whatever beautiful and/ or horrifying picture you want about what the inside of his brain looks like. Having been there myself I gotta say that it's basically just a street market from the original Bladerunner: flashing neon, dark skies, clouds of smoke, and a whole mess of questionable characters.
In addition to his work with Hot Damn Scandal, Pete has composed several scores for theater, and he plays in The Best Intentions with Ani Banani.
Jim, jimmy-the-boner, tromboner jimmy, bedtime snackmaster, mayor of poopington, classic jimothy,
"call me bitch" Jim Jam Jims (on the trombone)
is what we call our bone-slinging band nerd. Jimmy took both his first name and his first trombone from his paternal grandfather and has been debaucherizing his heritage ever since. From motorcycle farts to Jewish doinas, you never know what will come flying out of his horn. Don't get too close.
If you find yourself in the northwest corner of the states and you encounter Hot Damn Scandal in its natural habitat you may notice that it appears larger than the more widespread variety. That's because the rich Cascadian soil and prolific rainfall allow the band to support as many as four extra musicians on festival stages and in beer gardens.
In the inky black night, atop a shadowy spire, the euphonomancer, Kris Staples-Weyrauch, pours over his tomes. Dark, arcane magicks flicker through the ancient script. His thoughts give way to a vortex of tasty guitar licks, his self dissolved in a furious howl of sound.
Upon receiving his degree in laundrophonology, Dr. Washbones took his practice to the streets where he performed audiolobotomy, dolorectomy, labyrinthectasia, and hypertempic dystonial correction in the service of the exultant lusibus. With his trusty "Odium Vastator" hung around his neck and his brass ungulae, he'll roust a ruckus and rattle your roots.
Gentleman Jane, the Sax Priestess - A.K.A. Jane Covert-Bowlds - is often referred to as the "band conscience." She grew up in Ferndale, Washington, grew back down in Bellingham (where she met the rest of these scoundrels), and then grew all around in Seattle, where she continues her unusual growing patterns to this very day. She also plays with groups such as The Pazific (Seattle), MarchFourth
(Portland), and Lucky Brown (Port Angeles/Seattle).
David Pender Lofgren wields his drumsticks with the precision of a dalmatian wearing a wristwatch, the cunning of a dwarf planet in a protracted legal fight, and the vigor of a recently-installed but not-yet-paid-for dental crown.
David plays in almost every band in Bellingham, and hosts the podcast Little City Big Sound.