Dry goods for sale

The Busted Jug Band Comic Book, vol. 1

The premiere issue of "Busted Comics Presents: The Busted Jug Band:" 12 panels (4 in color and 8 in b&w) in the annals of infamy, portraying the oddball adventures and madcap antics of your favorite bunch of kazoo blowing misfits! Lefty B. Boom! Early Bird! Rude Boy! Kayola O'La! And P. Wee! Written and illustrated by Jeremy Lyons (with contributions by Rob Rudin), this self-published rag comes not a moment too soon; the Jug Band is sequestered away in secrecy at the moment, preparing for the appropriate time when it is safe to emerge into the public with a new blast of musical mayhem! Until then, enjoy these etchings!!!

The Busted Jug Band CD

The debut album of the Busted Jug Band. Songs by the Memphis Jug Band, Harlem Hamfats, Lucille Bogan, and more! Purchase includes an mp4 of the "silent music video" for "When the Sun Goes Down in Harlem!"

Early Bird: Harmonica, Guitar, Mandolin, Kazoo, Kazombone, Jug, Vocals
Smiling P. Wee Hernando Slim: Banjo-ukulele, Ukulele, Slide Guitar, Mandolin, Banjolin, Kazumpet, Kazoophonium, Bulb Horns, Jaw Harp, Slide Whistle, Vocals
Mr. Rev. Dr. Kayola O'la: Guitars, Banjo-ukulele, Squeeze Box, Field Organ, Kazombone, Vocals
Rude Boy: Wash 'n' Spiel, Bones, Corrugated Tie, Vocals
Lefty Boom Boom: Boom Bass ("Cadillac of Washtubs"), Kazoboe, Halusi

The Busted Jug Band Kazoo!

Manufactured by Kazoobee Kazoos, the Branded Busted Jug Band Kazoos are high quality instruments, and come in bright yellow with orange highlights. Enjoy hours of entertaining yourself, possibly at the expense of you and your loved ones, who are never to polite to let you know! But don't let that bother you- with a Branded Busted Jug Band Kazoo, you are a MAESTRO!! Get yours today! Makes a great gift!!!

- Watch our other video -

“When the Sun Goes Down in Harlem”

“Music didn’t get any better after jug bands; it just got different.”

 I first met the members of the Busted Jug Band between sets in the alley outside a Camberville pub early on during their multi-year residency. I figured they were poor, what with their habitual appeal to the audience for funds, but it didn’t prepare me for what I saw: five grown men (well, four are actually grown) gathered around, sharing one cigarette. They seemed happy enough, though, and as it went around the circle, they began to reveal their story. I started getting happy, too. Smiling Hernando Slim (aka Pee Wee Wheatgrass), bonified Diva and self-styled King-of-the-Street-Singers-in-exile (“I refuse to work under these conditions!”) is the de-facto leader of this band of anarchists. On his move to indoor venues, he says, “It was time to come in from the cold if I wanted to grow musically.” Strange choice of words from a man who plays the ukulele because it makes him look bigger. Mr. Rev. Dr. Kayola O'La worked as a mountebank, drawing crowds with his sweet tenor before pitching his “Miracle Tonic.” It was inevitable he and Slim cross paths, given their mutual taste for the Great American Songbook as well as opium, an active (and unlisted) ingredient in Byrne’s cure-all. Known throughout the land, especially by women and always by different names, a sloppy-drunk jam with Wheatgrass convinced O'La to seek refuge in the Seven Hills of Somerville. (Or was it the mounting warrants and paternity suits?) Speaking of suits, Professor (emeritus) Early Bird lived in an ivory tower with a wool sports jacket and patched elbows, turning out fan fiction between teaching expository writing to millennials. Until he got caught smoking banana peels with students in their dormitory. He claimed it was “research,” but from there it was a short fall into the blues, the harmonica, the musical jug and, finally, the band. “Speaking of musical jugs,” I asked, “What makes you guys want to play century-old music on obsolete instruments?” “Obsolete?!” shouted Rude Boy, resident washboard player and former juvenile delinquent, “I’ll scrub that damn nose off your face!” “Calm down, Rude Boy!” cried Slim, stepping between us. “We won’t bail you out again,” he said before turning to me. “I’ll thank you not to use that word. Rude Boy spent years developing his specific arsenal of percussion, and in his hands it’s a weapon.” I had a feeling he meant that literally. “And I think you’ll find,” added Lefty Boom-Boom, the jug band’s low-end specialist, “My Boom Bass is the Cadillac of one-string basses.” Lefty is the group’s often-silent philosopher, a skill he honed over years of working as a model for cigar store Indians. “We retreat,” he added, “from that which pursues us.” I guess that explains their repertoire and approach to fame. “We’re committed to performing this music authentically,” squawked Early Bird, “That’s why we don’t use amplifiers.” I suspect the motive was laziness, although the plan seems to have backfired: their stage set includes an ever-expanding collection of cheap lights, old photographs, rubber chickens, pink flamingos and bulb horns, adding visual excitement to their dulcet tones and spot-on renditions of songs that were a hit before your mother was born. And her mother. Music didn’t get any better after jug bands; it just got different. I floated back into the club with these other jug-heads, so glad I went outside to check the cloud cover with them.

- General Gau