From the bowels of Fordham Law, four total dorks unite to kick some ass and rock your face off. If Bruce Springsteen can pelvic-thrust all of America by humping a camera during the Superbowl, the least we can do is attempt the same in smaller quantities at bars and restaurants around the NYC area.

We hope you get your fill of the Seamen. For real.

While on leave from the Navy in the Philippines, PETE happened upon a dockside strip bar in the quiet fishing village of Manila. Expecting merely to slam some San Miguel beer and enjoy the impoverished naked local scenery, Pete instead found himself somewhat distracted by the smooth tunes of an ambitious young cover band performing at the club. The band, Captain Jeff and The Shrimp Shooters, was completing the final leg of their 1987 “Fuck a Duck” tour in the Philippines. In a burst of excitement, Pete rudely approached the stage and stole the microphone from Jeff during the encore. Suffice it to say that “Two Tickets to Paradise” never sounded so good. The band hired him on the spot, abruptly—and perhaps crudely—changing their name to Admiral Pete and the Seamen. The rest has worked out swimmingly.

JEFF is the greatest Whack-a-Mole player on Earth. Raised illegitimately by a family of Ukrainian carneys, Jeff spent the tender years of his youth cultivating the lost art of whacking scrappy, plastic moles with large, soft mallets. Unfortunately, Jeff was later ousted from the traveling circus after having become romantically involved with the bearded wife of circus owner, Vladimir Svetlavenko. Alone, broke and desperately wandering the streets of New York, Jeff soon learned that his Whack-a-Mole talents proved quite helpful when it came to drumming. Thus, Jeff spent the next 8 years banging away empty paint buckets and garbage cans for spare change on subway platforms all throughout the city, until one fateful day when he was approached by Justin D'aloia, a one-time world class hand model. Justin swore to Jeff that the secret to success lay not only beautiful hands, but also in the lost art of cover band rock domination. He suggested that Jeff join his soon to be famous cover band. It was only a matter of time before Jeff became balls deep in the Seamen.

They say that sailing is in a man's blood, but for GEORGE sailing is in his pants. After spending many years alone, unfurling his mighty canvas from his mast and tacking through lonely waters, the Admiral came upon him becalmed in some tropical straits with naught but his ukulele to pass the time. Having mastered the complete works of Andrew W.K. on his adorable miniature guitar, George was ready for a new challenge and readily accepted the Admiral's offer of a tow, a grown-up ax, and a new gig. Since making New York his permanent port of call George has been fascinated by the gangs of orphan pick-pockets, transvestite hookers and out of work comedy writers that make city living so much more interesting than a lonely life at sea. His wife too is grateful that she can at long last end her nightly vigil atop the widow's walk of their home, begging for a glimpse of George's sail on the horizon.

IAN graduated with a B.A. in English for Cornell University. With this completely useless degree, he then decided to become a deck hand on a deep sea fishing expedition just off of the Fjords of Ringkøbing, Denmark. He found the job tedious, and had luckily brought his guitar, a prized possession by the name of "Excalibur!" The Scandinavian crew soon grew weary of Ian's showmanship aboard the tiny vessel, and decided to strand him and Excalibur! alone on a rocky crag. Luckily, Admiral Pete, who regularly backstrokes the Atlantic Ocean for exercise and peace of mind came upon the parched and starving Ian. Admiral Pete, noting Ian's incredibly unoriginal rendition of The Outfield's "Your Love," asked, "Can you sing the Ronnie Spector part from Eddie Money's 'Take Me Home Tonight'?" Ian replied, "No...Well, kinda." And with that, Admiral Pete said, "Good enough," hoisted Ian and Excalibur! onto his mighty solar plexus and backstroked home to New York City. With only two talents, the ability to wail on the guitar and the ability to read boring, arcane literature, Ian gained admission to New York City's third-most-prestigious school of law, Fordham. The rest was history.