The Fuxedos

by Ron Garmon

...my phone rang and none other than my old partner, ace photographer Curious Josh, plucked me away from the scene, with both of us rematerializing at Spaceland’s door just in time for The Fuxedos. I first saw these zanies the afternoon of L.A. Decom 2007, when they flabbergasted a crowd of hallucination-hardened surrealists, with front-freak Danny Shorago leading the revels under the Sixth Street Bridge got up as a sort of Zippy the Pinhead with the cone filed down. He was just same madcap this time, right to the hospital gown that looked suspiciously like the same one from Decom. Their self-titled debut is the audio half of the band’s rollicking punky charm, with songs like “The Cow/Boy” (about the neuroses of a man-bovine superhero) and “Night of the Cephalopod” (A Firesign Theatre-style B-movie takeoff) there for repeat delectation. Shorago was his usual dynamic eccentric human whirligig, turning the near-capacity house sizzling over to Killsonic, as the latter did their entrance from the lobby, Louis Prima style. If any one live act in this town kicks as hard as the Fux, it’s Killsonic, so, as I left, this fat knot of boho elite was being jerked around like some of the giddier characters at the Bob Baker Marionette Theatre not far away... - LA Record

STORY By HARRIET KAPLAN
PHOTOS By PAUL ZOLLO

The Fuxedos aren't your typical rock and roll band.

In fact, there is nothing conventional about them.

Many local, unsigned bands sing, play and perform well enough to make an impression when one walks out of a club having never heard them before. Usually that's where it ends. But with The Fuxedos, it goes beyond that. Their entire show leaves an indelible mark that can't be shaken or forgotten in the mind of the club-goer. Their very unusual, ambitious visual stage show is always daring and adventurous. Taking risks and chances is always a dangerous prospect in terms of how it will go over and be received and whether it can it be accomplished. That said, The Fuxedos succeed on all these counts.

This five-piece unit's aim is to provoke, shock and make you think by any means necessary. A concertgoer walks out of their show remembering this group and will have an opinion about what they just experienced. The key word is experience.

The Fuxedos are: vocalist Danny Shorago; wicked Wes Styles on guitar and a bit of bass; righteous Ryan Brown on drums; the almightly Alex Budman on sax and a bit of bass and the stunning Stephen Charouhas on bass and keyboards rounding out this dynamic ensemble.

This show is more like performance art; a happening, even a freakout, whereas at a traditional concert one song in the set dovetails into another, and represents some thematic continuity and sense of order. Unlike that pattern, chaos is the order of the night and surprise is lurking around every corner at a Fuxedos show. All of this mayhem is provided courtesy of the maniacal frontman and singer Danny Shorago who has the ability to transform into different personas through the use of several costume changes. As well as shifting the tone in his voice when he actually sings.

Which by the way, he does very well and displays much range. Like on the already creepy, "I Put a Spell on You," by Screaming Jay Hawkins, he further immortalizes the eerie song and thrusts it into another category of weirdness. Otherwise, he is screaming, shrieking, grunting and ranting and raving or making some other utterances into the microphone.

The raved-up, punked out version of "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" will forever erase the wistful innocent yearning of the Beatles classic from your memory bank.

It just goes to show cover songs don't have be recreated note by note out of respect or reverence for the original band or artist, but can be reshaped and totally deconstructed for the fun or sheer hell of it.

Augmented by a bizarre assortment of props, masks and articles of very strange clothing choices laying on the floor in heap by the drum kit, the metamorphosis became more complete every few minutes.

Opening the set at the Echo, with the vitriolic diatribe against the happiest place on earth, "Fuck Disneyland," the controversial pace was set. Danny wore Mickey Mouse ears and white gloved hands to get more in character.

Other highlights of this eight-song set were "The Cowboy" and the enthusiastic sing-along participation of the very funny and nonsensical "Robot Vampire Wombats."

The crowd was transfixed, most smiled or laughed, but watched with intensity, often looking a tad puzzled as Danny moved about the stage, off the stage or out the front door of the club in perpetual motion. Body slamming a garbage can and knocking it over, he wasn't afraid or concerned about rolling around in the trash, either. It's entertainment after all. Often the Mr.Clean/Jim Carrey/Henry Rollins lookalike was running, jumping, stomping and gyrating throughout the show. He'd drape the American flag around his shoulders, wipe his head with it and his other sundry parts also got a good whack with the red, white and blue.

His rubber-like expressions reminded one of comic book character come to life. One minute, he's holding two toy guns aimed at a inflatable globe in his hand while wearing a huge skull mask, mocking the insanity of violence in the world and war. Then he rips the plastic globe in half to reveal a sole doll head and throws it into the crowd. He has a doll's arm sewn on his tattered jacket dangling on the back. Then the next moment, he's in a blue polka dot duster with his combat boots on and rainbow tube socks poking out underneath with pink party hat perched on top of his shiny bald face. Shorago became a crazed sort of comatose bad child kicking his legs straight up one at time in a rhythm he seems to only hear or understand. Then he bashed a tiny toy electric guitar on the edge of the stage ala Pete Townshend or Jimi Hendrix without the fire. Although there was no actual fire set onstage, there was enough kinetic energy and sparks to keep things exciting throughout the set.

The very tight backing ensemble of The Fuxedos, or the men with fake blood on their white shirts, more than managed to support the unpredictable singer in his mission to keep the audie - bluerailroad

By PAUL ZOLLO

HAVING BEEN A FAN of this remarkable band for several years, I expected something great from them. But this is beyond expectations. It’s one of the most audaciously inventive albums of all time. Just the version of “I Want To Hold Your Hand” should earn them their own permanent gallery in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame (although I suspect Cleveland might have issues with the band’s moniker). This is music both visionary and visceral, both hilarious and very serious, and it’s welcome now more than ever in this instant-message sensibility of modern lives, where people seem incapable of attending to anything that takes more time than a text or tweet. Here’s an album that is the evident consequence of vast and inspired studio hours, the kind of exhaustive craft pored into Beatles records as well as those by Brian Wilson, Steely Dan and Frank Zappa. A spirit of wildness permeates the proceedings, but it’s underpinned by a richly defined dimensional musical complexity. Yes. This is about passion.

First time I saw The Fuxedos live in Hollywood – in a now defunct vaudeville series– it was a revelation – amongst snake charmers, burlesques babes, chanteuses, comics and smirky magicians come The Fuxedos – led by a fireball of operatic rock and roll showmanship, style, and genuine hilarity named Danny Shorago. Who knew something this smart, this funny, this hilarious – all set against sparkling, shifting strains of rock-jazz-lounge-exotica – existed right here in Los Angeles? Though certain streams of brilliantly odd and ambitious songs seemed to have vanished ages past with the losses of Zappa and Beefheart, in The Fuxedos this spirit shines. A Zappa-inspired ironic demeanor informs their songs, which – like his – are often hilarious and serious at the same time, wedding sardonic and surreal lyrics to viscerally virtuosic music.

Danny Shorago is the lead singer and guiding spirit of the band. Onstage, he’s a wonder to behold, fusing soulfully fluid James Brown-like dance moves, a whirling and grinding dervish in a dizzy and surreal array of donned masks, hats, flags, guns, faux farm animals and more. In any one song comes a virtual encyclopedia of showbiz guises, from silent movie schtick to post-modern Goth bleakness to sham lounge lizard to heavy metal dude and beyond, all in the span of a single song. The band plays tightly rendered and multi-tempo music with abrupt time shifts perfectly synched to every Shorago move. He’s a dazzling dancer – with strands of Jagger, James Brown and MJ merged with Bill Murray, Red Skelton, Groucho Marx and Lenny Bruce.

So when I heard the band was in the studio recording their debut disc, I worried that they’d never be able to attain on record the unchained fervor and comic spark of their live shows, which rely heavily on visuals, live energy, and the spontaneous hilarity and brilliance of Danny. I was hoping for maybe just a fairly close facsimile of a live show – hopefully sans distortion. What I got instead is phenomenal – an album as infectiously inventive and wildly unpredictable in its production and studio craft as the band’s live onstage performances. It evokes the spirit of Zappa in a multitude of ways, not the least of which is that the comic abandon of live shows was always anchored in immaculately tight and virtuosic musicianship by the band. Like Zappa also, the music of the Fuxedos is groove-based – like any good rock and roll band – only their grooves constantly shift in unexpected ways.

But this is so much more. Because like Zappa — who presented in concert an astounding blend of virtuosic rock and humor, and then left to his devices in the studio, he took both dynamics – music and humor – even farther – Danny and the Fuxes have created something in the studio as intense as their live shows, but quite different. Produced and arranged by Shorago with Wes Styles, it’s a record that supplants the manic visuals with the full blossom of the band’s great musicianship; the self-generated inspiration of live performance blossoming instead into great studio inventiveness. Onstage there’s an ongoing clash – albeit an amiably intentional one – between Shorago’s unbroken theatrics and the earnest musicianship of the band. This is equaled out on the CD, where the music comes first. Like The Beatles, who poured the full force of their ingenuity into recording when they stopped performing live, exploring all the facets of multi-track recording and inventing new ones, Danny and company have come up with brand-new and invigorating ways to present their songs.

And like Zappa, Shorago surrounds himself with musicians of the highest caliber. Drummer Ryan Brown shines here, as he does live, in his fluidly seamless shapeshifting of grooves, often several times within a song, and the solid, muscular soul of his playing. Like Charlie Watts, he’s a powerhouse rock drummer with the finesse of a jazzman, bringing in remarkable nuance while also being the en - bluerailroad

The Fuxedos combine theatrical insanity with wonderfully addictive melodies! We caught them at their Safari Sam's gig and were literally shocked out of our skins! Check out their charismatic leader and visionary, Danny Shorago, in this interview...complete with masks, punishment dolls, happy face, guns...and more. - Rock n Roll TV

I had been meaning to catch a set by The Fuxedos for ages, and to my delight, I finally did see them a few weeks back at a theater on Hollywood Boulevard. The band - a demented, theatrical art-rock ensemble led by the shiny-pated, somewhat demonic singer-songwriter Danny Shorago - was performing as part of the Hollywood Fringe Festival, and a more appropriate confluence of artists and circumstance could not be imagined. The Fuxedos are definitely on the fringe - and I mean that in the best possible way.

I knew Danny back in San Francisco where he was one of the potent, versatile and charming lead vocalists in Casino Royale - not the James Bond novel or film adaptations but a sprawling musical group that had taken the San Francisco Bay Area party scene by storm.

As things happen, Danny left Casino Royale to follow his muse, but I hardly expected his muse to be so unhinged. He founded The Fuxedos in S.F., then took the project south when he relocated to L.A. So what exactly are The Fuxedos? Tough to pin down. In the studio or on stage, they've found a weird nexus between prog-rock, punk-rock, free-jazz and certifiable insanity, and staked a claim there. Their band logo apes that of The Beatles, and the cover of their debut album "The Fuxedos" deliberately evokes the cluttered, polyglot group-portrait on the cover of The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper. The Fux gang even does a version of The Beatles' "I Want to Hold Your Hand" - albeit a herky-jerky, turn-on-a-dime pastiche. And that's where the similarities end.

The Fuxedos have far more in common with England's Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, and their American brothers-in-avant-garde-rock - Frank Zappa & the Mothers of Invention, Captain Beefheart, The Tubes, Devo, and Oingo Boingo. Think of them as a sonic equivalent to the "psychotronic" movie genre embodied by low-budget horror and exploitation films. In concert, Danny is in constant motion, jumping, gyrating, changing costumes, provoking the audience, and generally playing the lunatic ringmaster. His voice is as elastic and resonant as it was when he was singing R&B with Casino Royale, although it's now used to more extreme ends, such as when he adopts a guise reminiscent of Zippy the Pinhead to creepily drone the "The Jellybean Song," or evokes the hipster orations of Ken Nordine and Lord Buckley with his hard-boiled, noir-detective narration to the surreal "Night of the Cephalopod."

The line-up of musicians has changed a bit since Danny founded The Fuxedos. What hasn't changed is the quality of the musicianship. Although I don't know how much they rehearse, the current members of The Fuxedos display a pinpoint discipline on some of the more intricate arrangements, as well as a measure of eloquence on the atmospheric stuff.

I'm not sure if Danny will keep The Fuxedos going. I hope it's for a while longer, because their twisted music is an ideal soundtrack for this bruised, battered, poisoned, self-destructive world of ours.

Below is a track from The Fuxedos' debut album, followed by a clip of their appearance on the revival of the willfully bizarre TV talent competition "The Gong Show." How ideal! - Michael Snyder

The attendees of Safari Sam's tonight will leave the Sunset Blvd. club in the wee hours and they might have a few things to say about the evening, but "boring" won't be a word you will hear.

With a lineup that begins with Renfield, followed by Quazar and the Bamboozled, and then The Fuxedos, the closing band Uncertain is going to have some strange and unusual acts to follow.

One of our favorite magazines, Interview, was created by the strange and unusual Andy Warhol. And one of the things that we like best about Interview is when they get two artists or musicians together to interview each other.

Today we were lucky enough to have Marz Richards of Renfield and Danny Shorago of The Fuxedos.

Join us, won't you, after the jump, where we listen in on a chat the boys had this week where they discuss surfing, Menehunes, conventional weapons, and the LA music scene, among other pressing topics...

http://laist.com/2007/08/08/the_fuxedos_int.php#more - LAist

Seeing stand-up at Spaceland is weird...Enduring the OMG LAFF RIOT was a fair price to pay for The Fuxedos, one the most entertaining bands in Los Angeles. Combining elements of punk rock, street protest performance art, DEVO, and off-Broaday musical aesthetic, The Fuxedos piss on more sacred cows in forty minutes than "South Park" in a full season of episodes. False gods prance around, Carebears are made to have group sex, guns are pointed at the audience, and when frontmaniac Danny Shorago has worked himself up into a sweat he nonchalantly dries his soaking pits with an American flag and then casts it onto the filthy floor.

To see The Fuxedos is to see Ren and Stimpy live.

The act could be mere juvenile stage-farting if Shorago weren't such an exceptional performer and if he didn't have an *amazing* backing band. The musicality adds credibility to the message; the laughs grant veracity to The Fuxedos' truth. Not to be missed.

http://classicalgeektheatre.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2009-04-07T04%3A01%3A00-07%3A00&max-results=20
- Classical Geek Theatre

“[The Fuxedos] incorporates free jazz, comedy, lounge, freakout rock, punk and everything under the sun in its hysterical live act.”
-- Los Angeles Times - Los Angeles Times

"...The tremendously talented and insane band, The Fuxedos...their live shows combine brilliance and chaos with almost hallucinatory visual stimulation...always an adventure..."
-- Keyboard Magazine - Keyboard Magazine

Thursday, May 13, 2010 by JOSEF WOODARD

WHAT’S IN A NAME: The Muddy is the site of yet more rebel doings this week. Take Friday night’s encounter with L.A.'s The Fuxedos. From the “do let the name fool you” department, The Fuxedos arrive on the ears and brain with several gags and cultural backflips attached. They love to play with language, musically, lyrically, and theatrically, and aren’t above props, costumes—worn and shed—or nasty antics, in pursuit of a good time and the onstage slaughtering of sacred cows (or at least goosing of sacred cows, to mangle a cliché or two). At the crazed but highly controlled, Wizard-of-Ozzy helm is singer Danny Shorago—also a filmmaker and UCSB film studies alum.

Aside from the instant tip-off of the beep-seeking band name, we know that some tricky business is afoot from “Intro,” track one of their eponymous album—actually the signature, kitschy blues tune ending we know, love, and groan at. With the following 41 naughty seconds of “Fuck Disneyland!”—in which the sentiment of the anti-Disney message is more anti-American than the f-bomb itself—the game is on. The party continues with wild numbers such as “Scooby Doo (and Scrappy Live Inside My Milkshake),” “My Three Nuns” and a wild-assed version of “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” sliced-and-diced and generally rearranged as if through the crazed filter of the greatest Beatles song ever—“You Know My Name (Look up the Number).” (Just half-joking about “the greatest Beatles song.”)

In this music, we hear unapologetic nods to Frank Zappa, complete with snugly matriculated unison lines, shifting meters, and all manner of progressive stuff that would send amateurs fleeing. Comparisons to Tenacious D, Mr. Bungle, and other punky-goofy avant-vaudeville projects will spring to mind. The players are sharp L.A. musicians who have worked within straighter musical quarters, but seem to love the chance to channel their inner madmen in this gleefully insane circus act. - Santa Barbara Independent

When bald-bonced singer Danny Shorago dons an old lady's dress, monkey boots and bonnet, and pours unintelligible gurglings into a mic, the circus has truly arrived. He's equally disturbing in a Tony Clifton lounge suit, or Mickey Mouse ears and gloves, rendering audiences speechless with "Fuck Disneyland." Way, way out. - Dennis Publishing (UK)

Where to start… The Fuxedos are “America's favorite apocalyptic comedy, lounge, punk, jazz, storytelling, cinematic, art rock band, complete with costumes, props, and bizarrely humorous theatrics”. That’s what it says on their website, and I’m not the argumentative type. Their debut has been out for the best part of a year, and I feel like I’ve been missing out. Their unnatural talent for mixing up some pretty unwieldy genres and making something (anything), which doesn’t feel like a novelty dog’s dinner, is to be enthusiastically applauded. There can’t be many bands you can make you laugh one moment before instantaneously dragging you off on some weird and wonderful journey to the outer reaches of spazz jazz. The Fuxedos do. There are ten of them, led by Danny Shorago who sings and writes a major chunk of the material. Their songs cover most of life’s essentials: Disneyland (“Fuck Disneyland”), Scooby Doo (“Scooby Doo And Scrappy Doo Live Inside My Milkshake”), fused nuns (“My Three Nuns”) and robot vampire wombats (“Robot Vampire Wombats”). Their take on The Beatles’ “I Want To Hold Your Hand” improves considerably on the original, which has no squawking sax, no spoken word section, zero crickets and plods on at just the one speed. Let’s be frank, The Fuxedos will Fuxshitup – it says so on the box, and I’m not the disbelieving type.
www.myspace.com/thefuxedos
Rob F.
- Leicester Bangs (UK)