Melisma is his middle name, and vocal flourishes are his game. The Riff, a/k/a Shevrahn Hylton Monroe, began singing in the church choir before he was old enough to talk, and his singing style hasn't changed much since those early days in Atlanta. His ability to turn one note into twenty inspired the title of his multi-platinum debut album, Jesus of Jive.

Hacks in every sense of the word, this ragtag assemblage of would-be musicians never fails to clear out a bar or kill a good party. Their mysterious ability to still get gigs after 25 years of publicly displayed incompetence has been attributed by some to the bandleader's cocaine connections, while others speculate it has more to do with his manager-girlfriend's oral negotiation skills.

Known to all the ladies as "Micro-Soft," M.C. Square grew up tough on the mean streets of Pasadena. His early recordings were released under the name F=ma, but at the urging of his grandfather, Grand Daddy Flash, he gave up his backwards Newtonian ways and opted for a more quantum mechanical moniker. Currently a resident of Scottsdale, Arizona, Square can often be found on the links with fellow golfer Alice Cooper.

Grand Daddy Flash is an O.G. (Original Geeza) among O.G.'s. When arthritis forced him to trade in his Glock for a cane, he embarked on a musical career and pioneered the rap style known as "gumming." Grand Daddy, also known as "Old Pee-Pee," is semi-retired from his associate professorship at Caltech, but every few semesters he drops in to teach a graduate-level course in particle physics.

After their 1965 chart-topper "Stop, Drop & Roll" was co-opted by fire safety instructors for use in school programs, The Depressions sued every fire department in the nation for copyright infringement. Left broke and embarrassed by the failed lawsuits, they've been touring nonstop ever since to get out of the red. A segment on The Depressions was supposed to appear on an upcoming episode of VH-1's "Where Are They Now?", but network executives nixed it after deeming their story "too depressing."

He was born into the material world as September Yarnell, but he transformed into the Electric Reverend after finding enlightenment under a fake ficus in the food court at South Center Mall. These days he maintains vacation homes in several other planes of existence, and visits the physical plane regularly to deliver his message of reason, peace, and tolerance to the soulful masses. His first book is scheduled to be released later this year, assuming all that nasty legal business with Jonathan Livingston Seagull gets resolved.

Sex, drugs, and rock & roll aren’t commodities one expects to find in Maine, but Rob encountered plenty of all three when he lived there during his "wild boy days." He didn't survive his escapades completely unscathed, however -- his arms still bear the scars of coyote hangovers long past. Apart from a few dozen unpaid parking tickets littering the backseat of his panel wagon, he's been a law-abiding citizen ever since his arrest for operating an electric bass with no blood in his alcohol.

They were a struggling band of zealots playing church revivals and book burnings until Pat Buchanan caught their show in Oneonta, Alabama. Now they're the biggest musical draw on the right-wing concert circuit, playing 310 dates a year at Christian Coalition rallies, NRA-sponsored gun shows, and abortion clinic bombings. Their latest release, Rifles for Righteousness, was critically drubbed by Rolling Stone and Church & State, but Randy Tate, Gary Bauer, and Charlton Heston have all added it to their "desert island discs" selections.

The Fabulous Bakersfield Boy may not be a household name in the world of country music - yet! - but it's nothing a gig at Nashville's Bluebird Cafe can't remedy. Nailin' is diligently saving up all his wages from his part-time job at Home Depot, and someday soon he'll make that cross-country Greyhound trek to the Land of Opry. He hopes the red, white & blue afterimage that appears after staring at his green, black & yellow guitar will subliminally convince record label executives he's the rightful heir to the Buck Owens throne.