“Best Genre-Defying Act” – Providence Phoenix 2007 Readers Poll
“Best of Rhode Island” – Rhode Island Monthly 2007 Award
Do you have an idea or event in mind that requires What Cheer? Contact us at WhatCheerBrigade@gmail.com.
Photograph by VRETTAKOS ALEXANDROS www.vrettakos.gr
THE BAND
Chop Chop the Chimp / Dead Chop Chop – Second Snare, aux. percussion
A kinder, gentler primate. The Chimp Is Dead. Long live Dead Chop Chop.
2ba-git 2 quit, Sousaphone
Dan, aka 2Ba-Git 2 Quit, once collapsed a lung due to his antics with this band. After a few months, he was back to risky, tuba-based behavior, all for you. Like the rest of the members of this band, he is a “calorie-to-note” engine, so be sure to feed him before shows for optimum performance.
Bigfoot Paul, Snare Drum
Have you ever seen the movie Drumline? Well, Bigfoot Paul’s life is nothing like that. At all. But maybe one day he will quit his rebellious ways, get good grades in school, AND get the girl. All while playing the snare drum really really well. And dancing. Watch out, Dr. Lee!
Andrew Peter Masterson
Mr. Masterson always wants it faster, tighter, and louder. You think you’re dancing to the music? You’re wrong, he’s playing your dance moves. So do it how you need it and his throbbing veins will bleed it.
Greg, Tuba
Born a small white child Greg grew to an even larger white child, a giant child who blows horns. Do it deep. Be it esoteric philosophy, scuba or noise making deep is the word. He does everything deep. Going low and deep to the throbbing pulse of the peaceful healing tuba. When you feel the tuba vibe think peaceful thoughts. Current work includes “Requiem for the Deaf” and “Tubas for a Bush Free Amerika.”
Neal “Gimmie Satisfaction” Jones, Trumpet, Velvet Jackets
Word around town is it that Neal is only in the band to get laid.
Michael, baritone saxophone
While never a tall man, Michael started the band at 5’6’’ but years of hauling around a piece of brass as large as himself, Michael’s spine has compressed nearly 6 inches already. Come see him quick before he’s too short to safely enter large crowds.
Nick–Brasselope, horns
Sometimes at shows I try to go up to people and dance with them but my pointy bones frighten them. Curse this wretched carcass.
Chris, Trombone
Chris plays trombone, and hopes to someday play all the notes, ever. He is also working on filling the rest of this space with trombone rhymes. Yo, my bomb-tone, calm-blown trombone’ll make you go’on home & psalm-moan: you’re tromb-owned! Wide-eyed by my slide glides, mesmerized! I’ll play all the noteses like Hall & Oateses!
Susan, Trombone
The by-product of a crippling commute from an unmentionable city to the north, Sackbutt Susan stands a full foot shorter than the rest of the trombone section. Her size, however, does allow her to tuck nicely beneath Chris and Andy’s blaring bells (when she’s not busy matching the baritones move for move.) Susan also steals slide magic from the French.
Annelise, Big Drum
Boom Boom! Annelise is in the Room!
Larry, Trumpet
He’s the king of rock. There is none higher. Sucker MCs should call him sire. To burn his kingdom, you must use fire. He won’t stop rockin’ ’til he retires. Larry likes to rhyme. He likes his beats funky. He’s spunky. He likes his oatmeal lumpy.
Katie, alto saxophone
When donning her white wig she often thinks of herself as her Polish alter ego, Kasia, who rules the Eastern European music scene with her brassy and saxy ways. Katie started out playing the clarinet, but soon switched to the sax becuse the clarinet just wasn’t loud enough. This one puts the sa-sa in the muzika and the boom-ba in front of ya!
Mindy the Metronome, bassdrum
Move out of the way of the arms of the small woman making big noise with a big drum while smiling and sweating. – chickswithguitars.com
Samantha “Thanks, it’s Infected” Simpson, Two large pizzas
Just doin her job, folks. Those cymbals aren’t gonna shred themselves.
John Slaby, Quads
Every morning, John wakes up, climbs down from his tree house and eats souls for breakfast. After washing them down with 2 liters of Mountain Dew, he skateboards to practice. What we don’t know is that when he plays our songs, he really hears all of them as epic adventure metal pieces.
Joe, Tuba Extraordinare
If you’ve got it, flaunt it.
Freddy, band manager
Having been together for a few years now, and still not chosen a band leader, the mighty Clubfoot gimped up and took the role. We couldn’t really argue him becuase if we did, he would bite our ankles and hobble us (alot like chop chop that way). So when not at the Decatur, drinking his usual 10 – 15 Narragenssets, or striking fear in the hearts of postmen everywhere, he is shepherding us wayward fools into proper formation. By that I mean, we hump a lot of legs.
GONE, BUT NOT FORGOTTEN
Cordey, trumpet
Chops and sex appeal – all packaged in what can’t weigh any more than 90 lbs – Young Cordero will charm you like an old snakecharmer with that magic trumpet of his. Ladies beware, parents, give up.
PANDREW! Euphonium
One part Panda, one part Andrew, Pandrew is a superhero. A magical, mystical, steel welding man who makes the children smile and the developers shudder. When Chop Chop scares the kids, Pandrew comforts them. All while laying down a bass line that would hold the craziest melody steady.
Maya the Destroyer, Bass Drum
When this band started, Maya played alto saxophone, but a fateful encounter with a bass drum in Philadelphia changed everything. The Destroyer was born. When you see her coming, drop any sharp objects and let go of any inhibitions. You are about to be pummeled into an irresistible dancing frenzy. Just give in; it’ll be easier for everyone.
George, Sirdu
George got something called jungle-rot real bad while living in Brazil. Don’t touch him at shows. Or, if you do, just wash your hands with cold soapy water before you go to sleep. Also, don’t take any kind of cortizone-type stuff for the itch because that’s steroids and jungle rot is a fungus and steroids will make a fungus grow really fast. But you probably won’t get it anyway, so whatever.
Marian the Cymbal Ninja
Conventional wisdom holds that ninjas are masters of stealth and shadow. Not so for the Cymbal Ninja, who comes at her victims with a gleaming flash of metal and a crash that makes their ears ring for weeks. Better back up when you see Marian coming, or you’ll be begging for quiet…just like her roommates.
Steve, Sousaphone
While it is true that most of the band loves me, that darned Chop Chop seems to have something against me and won’t go near me. It’s a shame…I love them early Primates! It has been rumored that my thunderous tuba playing is powered by the bear paw tattoo that was given to me by a mystic man.
