Sun dresses. Army boots. Lipstick. Sweating in filth. I don't remember the names. Royal lounges and Velvet...whatevers. Cheap tallboys and a shot of something wrong. Philadelphia dreaming in Berlin. The beer and the clubs are cleaner but we compensate. No apologies necessary. Hendrik (the Griller) Stiller, Organ & Rhodes -- Ga Nuong Voi Ngu Vi Huong. (Vietnamese 5 spice rubbed bar-b-cued coq.) Served with rice, a generous dusting of chopped fresh coriander, and Hendrick's secret spiced sherry makes this the perfect dish for a warm summer evening entertaining guests on the patio. And with a crisp,well chilled chardonnay, this light and easy dish is sure to please. For a copy of this delicious recipe and fun decorating tips, email the Griller at ohara (at) oharalive.com. Pelle Hinrichsen, Drums -- Pelle never really liked sports. His name vaguely resembles that of a famous Brazilian soccer player from the 70s and he fights an on going battle with foot fungus but that's as far as it goes. A heated debate with his father about foregoing fußball for the viola ended with a drum set emerging as the nearest compromise. Phew. Nick Glöckner, Guitar -- Want a muffin? Questions like this one can throw Nick into an impenetrable trance that is often misinterpreted as aloofness. But he's merely weighing pros and cons, contemplating ramifications, visualizing theoretical scenarios, etc. With furrowed brow and glazed eyes you can hear him utter, 'Muh... muh...' Sven Mühlbradt, Bass/Vocals -- Technically, it's not a lie to say you are the singer in a rock and roll band even if you only occasionally sing back ups. And for someone who wears his headphones like a crown of thorns, lying is not an option. So why the bass? He remembers angels in white dancing around him and a great star above casting tiny beams of light in all directions. Behold, on a clear April night in 1975, a child was born under a disco ball. Jeremy Fitzkee, Vocals/Guitar -- A Jack Russell chokes himself on the end of a leash. The sound of gasping and doggy nails scraping the pavement. No progress despite the frantic scurry. Jeremy awakens with a jolt and in a pool of sweat, reaches for the phone. 'Hey, Nick! How about O'Hara'.