Jazz Goons

Jazz Goons sound like Buddy Holly’s Beechcraft Bonanza crashing into a snowy corn field, Little Richards heel banging piano keys, and the glass scratching against Iggy Pops chest. We’re David Johansen’s red lipstick and high heels. We’re David Bowie’s milk, red peppers, and cocaine. We’re black leather rock n roll babies. We’re your 21st century rock n roll band. It’s the big boppers last call coming through your phone. Helloooo baby. We’re here. Revving the motorcycle outside your window. It’s gonna shoot straight through your heart. Drag race between your ears. You can click the heels on your blue suede shoes and dream baby dream about going home, but it won’t do you any good…. We have decided to move in.