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If you're a man, The Imperial Crowns music makes ya wanna git out on the hard streets and preach the Holy Gospel, then armed with a cheap small caliber pistol, rob a liquor store, make it to your best friend's house while he's away on his job, and make love to his girlfriend. By the time he drags his weary ass home, his girl, his mama and you are sittin' around the kitchen table with a bucket of Popeye's. You look up at him without batting an eye and say "Have some chicken, bruh."

If you're a woman, The Imperial Crowns music makes ya wanna walk back into that office you been bustin' your ass in for the last nine and a half hours, and tell the boss's son who gave you that "relaxing neck rub," "If ya put your fuckin' hands on me one more time, I'll kick your narrow ass all the way to Cleveland and back!"
... then jump in your car, drive to Tijuana and have your interior tuck n' rolled, pull up to your boyfriend's pad Sunday morning, honk the horn 'til he comes out and tell him, "We're havin' church in the car, baby!
Well, be you woman or be you man, or be you something... in between ... the music of The Imperial Crowns is gonna make you wanna do SOMETHING! Most likely you won't rob a liquor store after hearing (and hopefully witnessing) these hard working souls, but you SHALL be left with an impression that's gonna stay with ya for a good long time.
These days, there are those who feel The Blues should be kept "pure"... locked up in a museum, and worshipped. Well, The Imperial Crowns say KISS MY ASS to that! Preachin' the blues everywhere they go, pimpin' the blues like a lowdown 'ho!!!

Michael Barsimanto doesn't just play the drums. He whups the drums. He teases the drums. He worships the drums! Knockin' hip cats out from coast to coast, and across the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. He's a quiet kinda dude. He don't talk too damn much. That's because he's feelin' rhythm in the air, in nature and sounds. There's always a beat pulsing through his soul! You'll feel it too, when ya hear him do his thing. If ya can't feel it, go down to the coroner, and have yourself pronounced dead!

Keith "Foxxe" Karman is a bad cat with sharp claws! Still a young man but definitely an old soul, with as much depth and ability as any well seasoned player twice his age. Rollin' like thunder over the land, he bends himself over that bass guitar and delivers his message. The foundation is here baby! His face will break out in a cheshire cat grin as if he's even astounding himself at the bad ass shit he's layin' down! We won't even talk 'bout the response he gets from the women in the audience. You can dig that for yourself!

J J Holiday has got a big greezy sound when he plays his axe. A stone soul poet of the slide guitar, he carries the Delta in his ass pocket. He's played on all kinds of modern shit, some movies etc. But his debut was as thee unknown sideman on the last known recordings made for the now defunct Paramount label's famed 13,000 race series ( Paramount Records : Home of Blind Lemon Jefferson, Hokum Boys, Biddleville Quintette & The Jubilee Gospel Team). He was just about to embark on his solo career for their satellite label QRS, when all holy hell broke loose due to that big crash of 19 and 29. Paramount folded up shop right quick. Suddenly in those meatless and wheatless days, JJ spilt for the Windy City. He served as a "Pinko" during the 1930's labor wars. Through the 40's, he continued to accompany some of the great blues legends from those grand old days gone by and pioneered the first electric musical saw. He continued performing with it at barndances across the North Eastern US until meeting an untimely death in 19 and 58. Whilst playing during a stormy weekend hoedown, he was electrocuted in a super FREAK accident! 3 days after this, he arose in the Big Apple & opened up a little barbershop. He soon earned a reputation for shaving the best "O'Reilly" in town. He shaves 'em dry n' close folks! Circa '62, he was "rediscovered" by the TV legend Lloyd Thaxton in a Greenwich Village coffee shop. Through the 60's he played for throngs, albeit very dirty, hippies in the post-folk scenes... gave a shot at the glitter & punk scenes, but failed miserably. Back to Chicago, broke & long forgotten, by the winter of '81 he was found laying frozen in the snow round Christmas time... dead again! So who was Justin Jesting anyway? Who is Mr. Holiday's mom? Called her Grandma. Well folks, J J Holiday really knows how to raise a RUKUS! ...and a little sand too! Grandma and Grandpa will love him just as much as the teenagers too!

"I loved the music, but Lord God that man BLASPHEMES"! one dear woman said about the singer Jimmie Wood's between-the-tunes, semi X-rated, fully Pentecostal rants which often last longer than the songs. Born to movie industry parents, ("Ava Gardner shoved my face into her tits when I was just a little shaver. Ooh wee!" reports Wood). How did he wind up in Houston billed as "The Teenage Sensation" opening up for Little Junior Parker in the early '60's? Wood can't remember, but will tell you why he left Houston. "Don Robey (notorious owner of Duke Records) really wanted to sign me to his label, Back Beat, and I didn't wanna do it. He started to go for bad on me, so I pushed his ass down the stairs at the 'The Brass Peacock'. His thugs were gonna put me down for keeps, when I heard a voice say, "Be cool everybody". That was the first time I ever laid eyes on J.J. Holiday and he was holding a cannon in each hand. Those dudes backed off, we got in J.J.'s '47 Mercury, and hit the road back to LA." What holiday is this anyway? --> Who the HELL knows? Soon after that... well, the Imperial Crowns rose out of the smoldering ashes of JJ's debaucheries and Jimmie's undeniable sermons.