This hairy bastard is the group's self-proclaimed, non-official leader with no power. Always with something in his mouth, whether it is cigars or sax reeds, rumbling baritone noise is his signum.
This mad dog from the north has been released to feast upon whatever solos he can. Armed with his Martin double-bore T-bone, an instrument as simple as his mind, he is truly a forzando to be reckoned with.
- 180 cm
- 80 kg
- 8 cm
Holder of the Guiness world record for the brownest tone ever played on a used rectoscope.
A man of dubious morals. With his sermons he promises the audience salvation. But beware: with the sweet sound from his tenor sax he will lead you to eternal damnation.
He works with his fingers every day, but never with his hands. As a self proclaimed philantropist he steals from the poor and gives to the rich, oftentimes himself. Wanna smell his glögg?
Right back from the other side of several of the seven seas, slayer of the Bermuda triangle, bukis with the Kraken. He has one wooden limb, can you guess which?
Due to not being able to count although being a literal Count, this guy brings a whole new meaning to "dropping the beat", and that's not meant in a good way.
This oil-hungry two-stroke machine drives the bands pace and middle-aged paranoia. If you smell the classic smell of gasoline, you've come to the wrong place, this machine only runs on malt-enriched fluid replacement.
“Command and control!”, he shouts angrily as he uses his many intricate tools to deliver some of the most complex beats in modern history. He is also rumored to be behind the wheels of the fearsome Maskinen. Or he is he? Maskinen is in fact controlled with a joystick. And that, according to Operatören, that's najs.