What can you say about a band that’s all about knocking down barriers and creating new musical foundations? It must be The New Prophets at it again. This is a unit that cleverly interprets cover material from an eclectic melting pot ranging from Willie Dixon to Elvis Costello, from the Grateful Dead to the Talking Heads, from Muddy Waters to Roger Waters. On top of that, they deliver a healthy dose of original music which sizzles into a golden brown tasty treat. Their live performances of this rock n’ roll gumbo are carried out with a verve and panache which often leaves audiences mesmerized. As an unemployed record executive once queried , “Who the hell are these guys?” They are the New Prophets and here’s a little bit more information than you need about the main offenders.

The band’s leader and chief instigator is Paul Roidoulis. His rich crooning vocal treatment and “grip it and rip it” guitar style have fast become trademarks of the ensemble. While the other kids in his Walpole, Massachusetts neighborhood were drinking Narragansett and listening to Led Zeppelin IV, Paul was at home in the dark listening to Nat Cole records and studying the velvety phrasing of Frank Sinatra. Many a day was spent dreaming of the day he himself would play the Vegas strip. These aspirations have already come to fruition. Thankfully for all of us, the music of Jerry Garcia and David Byrne crept into his being at an impressionable point, and has had a profound effect on his songwriting. His prowess as songwriter was first on exhibit in The Co-dependants in the 80’s and 90’s, and has sharpened considerably in the new millennium. This craft is at the core of most of the New Prophets original songbook, which showcases a bigamist but healthy marriage of Memphis style grooves, spacey jams, and rock anthems. In addition to band responsibilities, Paul has been involved in many side projects including the ill-fated “I’d rather be crooning” tee shirt fiasco, as well as writing and producing an avant garde one-man rock opera entitled Five Wood or Two Iron; I’m Really Not Sure.

He’s seen it all, and remembers very little. Drummer Billy Kramer has been a major force in the east coast music scene for longer than he’d care to admit. Few will forget his role in Back Bay Brew, a wildly popular but misunderstood band in the early days. As a founding member of The Beagles, he was singer, played guitar and keyboards, and sold hot dogs and beer during the breaks. It was in the 1980’s while playing bass for The Probers when he met his musical foil and “soul” mate Jim Beaupre. In the present day, Billy has graciously assumed the role of patriarchal figure in the New Prophets. He puts the high back into high harmony. His propensity to tackle the most challenging lead vocal assignments contributes to the band’s vibrant flavor. From Stevie Wonder to Stevie Winwood and every other Stevie in between, serious mustard is being cut. His drumming is at times the cajun swing of Levon Helm and at other times the all out brutality of Keith Moon. As a random acquaintance once marveled, “That’s Billy Kramer, isn’t it?”

Affectionately known as “Boney” by friends and neighbors, enter Jim Beaupre on bass and vocals. Quite simply, he is the band’s anchor and self-proclaimed musical director. Armed with a quick wit and a keen ear, he could forget more musically than most of us could ever hope to know. A native of the bay state, Boney grew up on corn flakes and rock n’ roll. This led to a tumultuous stint as bass player in The Mints. He first gained real fame in Rhode Island in The Probers. For a time in the 1980’s they were the biggest band in the smallest state. More importantly, it established a strong musical union between messieurs Beaupre and Kramer. Listening to Boney’s bass playing conjures up sonic images of bassmen ranging from Donald “Duck” Dunn, to Graham Maby, to Phil Lesh. A prolific singer-songwriter and guitar player, his solo acoustic album Surreal will surface in the near future. As a Prophet, his comedic rapport with the audience is a thing of legend, especially the timeless “You gotta move back” routine. Boney’s twisted brand of renegade philosophy is cause for legitimate concern for boy and girl alike. As a complete stranger once wondered out loud, “Who’s that guy playing bass anyway?”

It was about a year ago when saxophonist Ian Katz bullied his way into the band. Things have never been the same since. His horn playing has left a huge imprint in the hearts and minds of New Prophet Nation, as has his “Get out of my way, I’m from New York” attitude. Hailing from the borough of Queens, Ian went to school on such jazz icons as Cannonball Adderley, Paul Desmond and Branford Marsalis. He’s borrowed from his heroes while at the same time developing a unique mind-altering style of his own. This phenomenon is widely recognized in the industry as “Katzification”. Ian has “Katzified” on many a studio session, and live with bands such as Violin Road and The Jim Devlin Band. Still in his early twenties, he is dwarfed in age by the rest of the band, especially drummer Billy Kramer. Blessed with a tremendous mane of hair, fans have been known to cross state lines just to find out “what he’s doing with it these days.” These follicular exploits have led to many hair-care product endorsements and gameshow appearances.

Taming the keyboard jungle is the always excitable Richard Sage. Born in Boston and settling in Worcester’s fashion district, he grew up (open to debate) admiring the keyboard stylings of Garth Hudson, Dr. John, Stevie Wonder, Steve Nieve, Leon Russell, Stevie Winwood, and many others. His fascination with Brent Mydland of the Grateful Dead, and Mydland’s subsequent death, eventually led him to the bench. Sage would soon infiltrate the neo-hippie-deadhead scene, cutting his teeth with such bands as Shakedown, Loose Change, The Nipsies, Five of a Kind, and The Troubleshooters. Countless gigs and numerous one-way excursions into rock n’ roll madness later, Sage brings his savage approach to the Prophets. His grotesque facial contortions on stage, and obsession with useless sports trivia, have horrified audiences and bandmates alike, and have provoked serious self analysis. As an estranged colleague once quipped. “He’s easy to get to know, impossible to get rid of.”