It all began way back in 1992 - In the closing days of the Bush administration, 3 depressed New Yorkers and former StonyBrookites set out by land, air and, well not by sea, but anyway, they set out for the mythical land of San Francisco in search of a place where they could express themselves and their freaky yet sensitive philosophies. These three freaks were King Barfer, a singer in a NY Bizarrecore band, Lady Get-a-beer, his wife, and Sir Dancelot, a respected but not very successful composer and musical philosopher. They had heeded the beckoning of the Lady on the Make and were searching for a plot of land on which they could build a castle of sliver and mold... the mythical JAMAELOT. They knew, however, that they could not do it alone.
Later that year, as the election of 1992 and decent weather brought a brief glimmer of hope to a land divided and without a king, Lady Get-a-beer, in her travels to the financial district, met a surly sandwich man, who, as it turned out, was named Sir Spam. Spam had come from Iowa with many of the same hopes, dreams, and subgenius philosophies as the 3 easterners. He also brought a whole bunch of camera equipment and a working vehicle.
Spam joined the crew, but Barfer and Dancelot felt that a couple more bodies were needed to create Jamaelot. Barfer sent out a call to the evil eastlands for anyone who needed to get out and needed a cause. Two knights answered the call; they were Sir Finsifari and Sir Anymorebeer?. Now the Clown table was complete - The five knights (minus lady, who left in disgrace to a nunnery), signed the lease on a suburban palace near City College which had recently become vacant because the former tenant, one Luis Garcia, had crashed his plane and died. The castle of Jamaelot rose from the ashes of this tragedy.
No sooner had they moved in when a dark cloud appeared in Jamaelot which almost doomed it from the start. This dark cloud was soon discovered to be hovering over Sir Finsifari's head. It appeared that he was in fact the Dark Knight. In a monthlong battle, The jamaelotians fought and slew and sliced and killed and died (of course, in their typical passive agressive fashion, this was all done beneath a veneer of silence and/or politeness) and Sir Finsifari was sadly ejected from the castle. For many years his name was not spoken, but he eventually paid everyone back and is now fondly remembered as the bringer of the sacred Jamaelot melody "theme from Cleopatra Jones", although he is, and should be, looked upon with suspicion.
Tired as hell from the ordeal, Sir Dancelot, King Barfer, and Sir Anymorebeer? huddled in the family room and began improvising extended melodies, since they couldn't be bothered to actually write any songs. These plaintive wails became the birthing grunts of what would eventually become Beyond-o-matic, the flagship musical outfit of Jamaelot.
Around this time the Jamaelotians were visited by Lady Helen Aearth, who brought spirit and a motorcycle to Jamaelot and who left most of her hair there. Following Aearth's departure, A new knight arrived at Jamaelot by the name of Sir Cumstance. Cumstance, an old acquaintance of Barfer's from StonyBrook, was a seasoned sonic warrior from the land of the Boring Sponge by way of Reak and Stump. The knighting of Sir Cumstance brought the doctrine of FORCE into Jamaelot for the first time. Colloquially known as the "Anal Adjustor", Cumstance set in motion a sequence of events which culminated in the Jamaelot Mantra # 3 which goes:
Do Not Estimate the Power of Force
Another Jamaelot Mantra, which predates that one, is:
We Must Quit Touching the Unclean Thing
Anyhow, around this time, The castle was overrun by Skunks and Hurs, and The knights were forced to find a new castle on Meacham (crack) alley. Darker, darker, and infested with impish spirits and the occasional visit of rat-boy, The new jamaelot was nonetheless in a more central location, which in the end they supposed was necessary, particularly with regard to Sir Anymorebeer? who worked at the Hilton and had now been rechristened Sir Atonin by his consort, the Daragannon lady.
From there it goes on and on, from the arrival and departure of Sir Joe Powor and Lady Speed Stick to the frightful spat between Sir Spam and Sir Dancelot over Lady Karaelot, from the abdication of Sir Atonin to the arrival of Franktus, who I will now Knight in this column as Sir Charge, from the conversion of Sir Vix (Mel-o-dee) and the sad departure of Sir Spam in order to tend to his coming spawn (conceived in jamaelot) to the re-arrival of Sir Kel, Jamaelot endures, through bouts of depression, malaise and Attention Deficit Disorder, as an indoor/outdoor speaker bolted to the awning of society, spewing a more or less steady stream of music, vision and philosophy. As a beacon in the night to those who thought fun was superfluous and spiritualism a practical impossibility.
WE ARE JAMAELOT