In the heart of the flat, gently rolling hills of the Midwest, known as the Central Plains, there existed a musical group of four young Midwest Bad Boys, whose music was as wild as their adventures. Their ability to get into trouble was as common as fireflies in summer.

 These four young men were as inseparable as peanut butter and jelly but had a knack for finding trouble like a magnet attracts metal shavings. They were famously known as “Wanted,” and their legend rushed through the plains like a wildfire through wheat fields.

Leading the pack were the croonin’ guitar playing biker buddies, Tony and Frank, with voices as smooth as aged bourbon with a roughness of Jack Daniels. Legend had it that their harmonies were so hypnotic that they once serenaded a herd of cattle into line-dancing, while an enthusiastic coyote and goat did the two-step and crickets paused their chirping to listen in awe. 

It was said, when these buddies played, their riffs were as fiery as a summer barbecue with fingers that moved so swiftly on their strings that lightning bugs mistook them for disco balls and swarmed the stage.

Then there was Groovy beat-it Greg on the drums, whose beats were as thunderous as a stampede of wild mustangs. His rhythms were so thunderous that they once set off a series of fire alarms in a ten-mile radius and caused a nearby Honky-Tonk to collapse – not that they’d ever admit it!

 Completing the group was funky fingers Kenny on the bass, whose fingers danced on the strings like a prairie rattlesnake ready to bite. Rumor had it that his bass lines were so groovy that even coyotes in Illinois would howl along to his catchy bass lines while line dancing under a full moon.

These Wanted hardcases were a sight to behold, tirelessly perfecting their tunes amidst beer-soaked jam sessions that sometimes ended with more spills than music notes. Their music echoed throughout the central plains, hills and valleys, drawing in crowds and the occasional office of the Law, still looking for one or more of these misfits.

Many tales speak about their Legendary misadventures – from mistaking the sheriff’s patrol car for a tricked-out, high-speed race car straight out of a James Dean movie, during a midnight serenade which turned a quiet bar into a raucous honky-tonk that could be heard clear across the county. It also talks about the time when they, accidentally serenaded a herd of sheep instead of the expected crowd while trying to use the mayor’s prize bull for rodeo practice during one of their better nights.

Our heroes would roam from town to town, serenading the locals and lifting spirits with their foot-stomping’ rhythms and songs. It’s said that their music once caused such a riotous celebration that even the chickens laid rhythmically synchronized eggs and the Sun stayed up all night just to listen.

Though they occasionally found themselves in trouble with the law for their rowdy shenanigans, The Wanted  misfits were very popular with their Friends and Fans, who couldn’t help but just smile at their antics and adventures, which only proved that even amidst spilled drinks and trouble, the power of music could bring a community together and turn mishaps into toe-tappin’, law-breakin’ legends that would echo throughout the central plains, whispered around campfires, sung about in ballads, spread by word of mouth and a few howling coyote’s for years to come