Being the adventures of a band in London with unremarkable haircuts and an arguably eccentric approach to disco. There are three of us: Betamax does the drumming, Vaughn Stokes takes care of the bass, Jordan concerns himself mainly with the Rhythm Guitar, and we all croon like fools. www.hotheadshow.com
Monday, 30 November 2009
Saturday, 21 November 2009
This is being put up here partly to counter Vaughn's grizzly little video selection a few days ago, and partly because it might actually be the best music film ever. Spiritually, Hot Head Show is little more than a Raymond Scott covers band - we're willing to own up to at least a third of this video's 82,000 views, and would advise you to google that shit.
Monday, 16 November 2009
The new guy is so right on you wouldn't believe.
Betamax's girlfriend's band is also actually pretty good.
Jordan is nearly ready to stop arsing around with the new tracks, but not quite.
Drummer and bass player now live in small flat above a Costcutter with only mild
rodent infestation, though unless bass player finds a job pronto he'll be back on
guitarist's sofa, where rodent issues are more severe, before the end of the month.
Here's what it all looks like:
Thursday, 5 November 2009
Click the thing up top there, whack it on your iPod and incorporate these five odd little songs into your civilian activities as best you can.
The plan is to make an expanded version with extra tracks and **!EXCLUSIVE VIDEO CONTENT!** available as a physical CD release some time soon. And then there's these new tracks we've been recording:
Saturday, 24 October 2009
Sunday, 11 October 2009
The bald truth is that there have been some personnel changes here at HotHeadquarters. Bass Player Number One, Mr Stan Dudley, was discovered to be making unnervingly gratuitous films about fruit juice that were so off-brand, so genuinely disturbingly sticky, that we had to let him go. His replacement, the Most Deeply Progrooverant Jonah Brody, ended up getting sponsored by the Balinese government to relocate to the Indonesian School of Gamelan and Shadow-Puppetry, where he now lives in a mango grove reading Anna Karenina and nursing chronic diarrhea.
There is however a glimmer on the horizon, a glimmer which we might suppose by the nature of its approach to be of not inconsiderably monstrous significance. A young Canadian player by the name of Vaughn Stokes, having caught wind of the low-end deficit crippling his favorite band, has taken it upon himself to leave his home town of Victoria BC, to travel the 4769 miles to East London, leaving behind his hot girlfriend and his steady job scrubbing woks in a noodle franchise, in the hope that Hot Head Show will accept him into its ranks. Hot Head Show has vigorously discouraged all such folly, but Vaughn Stokes has made up his mind.
We, the two surviving Showmen, have thus far never met Mr Stokes. Since his first email correspondence with us just a few weeks ago, we have been assured that he knows the parts inside and out. The data from Youtube's analytical tools, which show hundreds of plays of our various live videos to have originated from an IP address in British Columbia, would seem to at least reinforce the possibility.
But can the kid really play? What are the chances of his not being a ignant little shit? Might he to any extent be homicidal? The fate of this band has taken such strange turns of late that it seems sensible to begin some record of this here henceforth. As I type, Vaughn Stokes hurtles high above the Atlantic - in a few hours he'll arrive in London with nothing but a duffel bag, a black fretless Fender Jazz bass, and this band. Surely he won't last long.
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