Roosevelt Jenkins

The story of Roosevelt Jenkins “the Band” begins where the legend of Roosevelt Jenkins “the Man” leaves off. For you see, unbeknownst to these five battle-hardened, axe-wielding Soldiers of Rock prior to the formation of their illustrious quintet, Roosevelt Jenkins “the Man” was the elusive seed-bearer whom (with the help of several nubile young ladies) spawned each member of the band, thus infusing their collective DNA with the passion & ferocity which fuels the creative fire behind their music. In layman’s terms, they are Brothers From Other Mothers.
Raised separately by loving families in different parts of the globe, the kids who would grow up to form Roosevelt Jenkins “the Band” spent their early years pursuing their own individual paths toward musical enlightenment. It was not until that fateful day when the mysterious and incomprehensible forces of the universe coalesced into a beautiful, symbiotic harmony which allowed them all to find each other (with the help of the internet, of course), that they learned of the common bond shared amongst one another. At that moment, armed with a newfound sense of purpose and strapped with an unrelenting determination to bring their music to the masses, it was decided that They Shall Form A Band. But not just any band, mind you. Goodness no! Any shmuck with a six-string can start a band & spend his nights doing “L.A. Woman” and “Mustang Sally” in smokey bars for drunk 9-to-5ers who can’t stop themselves from shouting “Play some freakin’ Skynyrd!” and laughing out loud while high-fiving their buddies because they think they’re just so goddamn funny. Quite the contrary. Roosevelt Jenkins is a Rock n’ Roll band the likes of which has never been seen before, and it is their firm belief that ANYONE who performs “Mustang Sally” should be shot in the face.
The gut-churning rhythms and hard-yet-melodic textures of the music of Roosevelt Jenkins come from The Soul. Each night on stage they scream & wail, spinning true-to-life tales of angst & woe and weaving tapestries of elation & redemption, giving every ounce of their Hearts, and leaving behind nothing but pools of sweat (and maybe a little blood) on the floor and goose bumps on the hides of the crowd. Though they have never met their Sire and Namesake, this handful of twenty-somethings stays true to his philosophy, which was culled from decades of coaxing sweet Delta Blues from a battered guitar down in Mississippi. That philosophy is as follows: Always remain true to yourself and your art, and never let yourself be pigeon-holed. It is with those two simple doctrines in mind that Roosevelt Jenkins “the Band” strikes out into the world at-large, bringing music to those who need it most, and leaving a trail of newly-awakened converts in their wake. It is their promise - nay!- their Mission to fly in the face all things plastic & superficial in the world of music as it exists today. All these cookie-cutter “bands” who repeatedly and incessantly turn out paint-by-numbers “rock,” which is then greedily lapped up & spat out partially masticated by the hordes of half-dead zombie-eyed sheep, had better cash in while they can. Because their days are numbered, and the footsteps they hear behind them, though faint, are growing louder every day. Those footsteps belong to Roosevelt Jenkins; and their ever-growing base of loyal fans is right on their tail...