offering his sandwich to the queen:
Kip "Trundlecruncher" Jones was born one foggy 1967 morning in a garish hotel room in Tucson. Swaddled in newspaper amid stacks of prehistoric farming implements, he began his musical sojourn at age 3, whistling Pachebel's Canon in D while trying to lift an adz. His parents disowned him at 12 for his bad Latin, and he spent the remainder of his adolescence in a Monterrey orphanage preparing pico de gallo. The songs of Norteno began to stir in his heart; taking up a violin at the funeral of the neighborhood's beloved Dona Rosaria, he promptly alienated his foster community playing "Hey Hey We're the Monkees" at a dirge-like tempo. After graduating from Berklee College of Music in 2001, he spent nine months traveling around North America by motorcycle. Having recently returned from studying Hindustani Raag Sangeet with Kala Ramnath in Bombay, he is currently teaching English in a rural South Korean elementary school.

convincing detractors of the importance of his sandwich:
Karl "The Gamblin Ma'amblin" Doty is inspired, more than anything, by the sheer gastronomic prowess of Monsieur Mange-Tout. He hails from the Bras D'Or region of Cape Breton Island, where his family has herded stray and unwanted livestock for nearly two centuries. In his current town of Dixville Notch, New Hampshire, he has acquired a reputation as the only resident capable of dissecting the carbureators of a pre-war Allis Chalmers tractor while balancing an egg on his nose. Having studied music under the strict tutelage of a certain Olga Ivanovna Krembotyosov (who encouraged corporal punishment), he gravitated toward the double bass due to its remarkable ability to function as a shield. He recently participated in two workshops with Edgar Meyer, and has taken part in the Schleswig-Holstein festival in Germany this past summer. He is soon to finish his bachelor's degree at New England Conservatory in Boston, where he is also keeping himself busy with the formation of an eighteen member chamber orchestra.

his sandwich is sleeping ever so soundly:
It is unclear whether or not Zach "On your mark, get set" Miller has super powers. If he does, he hides it well. I mean, I've seen him do some pretty cool stuff, but nothing I'd call flat-out amazing. Like when he juggled five oranges--that was cool. But when he tried six, he dropped them. And sometimes it seems like he's reading your mind, but maybe it's just really obvious what you want, like there's a cake in the room and you're salivating. And he says, "Do you want some cake?" and you don't think about how it's not amazing, because you want the cake so bad. I bet if you asked him what the most important contributions a drummer makes to a band are, he'd tell you something that made sense but it wouldn't blow your mind. And even if it did, you might not remember it five minutes later. He's a good climber, a good skiier, and he plays in a popular band in Minneapolis called "Put Down the Muffin". He has recorded quite a bit, toured with Sara Groves, and he teaches at North Central University. Karl and Kip regret that Morning Zephyr has not shown off his command of mallet instruments yet. He is married to Faith, and has a very young daughter, Jersey Mae.