The Maladroits were formed by a dad and his eldest son and the son's best friend/next door neighbor. They had a long-hair named Gunther on guitar that lived upstairs of the best friend and was a student of the dad but he is unimportant to the story and, consequently, is dead now. His replacement promptly insisted the band cease singing and go solid instro, despite the fact that he was a 5-octave vocal monster of some reknown on several continents and pals with Skeeter Davis. In time, the merely 13 year-old piano playing youngest son joined against his wishes, thus cruelly ending his idyllic youth and thrusting him into a late-night musicians's lifestyle, and then they were 5. Sometime later, a clean-living ex-jazzer who distinctly smelled of sax, after cyber-stalking the band for several weeks, came to a gig with his instrument underarm, leapt onstage unannounced, and proceeded to growl surprisingly sinister surf sax sounds and then them were 6. Yet still no sex. Over 100 embarassing and disasterous gigs were racked up before the sons got squirrely and joined bands without fathers in them. Reunion talk is snickeringly made to keep the insane member quiet but it is all lies, for that ship done sailed, and then sank in a squall. Despite the tragi-comic outcome of The Maladroits, during their reign they were actually phenomenally good, but the populace wanted a band that tastes good, not a band with good taste. The wildly age-ranging surfers, endlessly sans a unified mission-statement, failed to achieve the tin-record sales everyone knew they were capable of, due to inability to get laid, autistic differences, bad breath, hair jealousy, rampant unchecked athleticism vs. descent into mild druggieness, and polarizing religious dichotomy, including snakes. They still hang out, break the law, watch themselves in videos, and force their girlfriends to watch themselves in videos. Primarily existing now electronically here at myspaced and over at ho-ho records, The Maladroits make live appearances on rare occasion when they feel the need to defend their title. It's not nice to fool mother nature.