Dandy McCandy Studios
The Origin Story 

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Dandy McCandy Studios are comprised of Studio West (Jon's living room) and Studio East (the closet in Matt's basement). These enclaves, nestled in the two democratic strongholds in an otherwise Republican Missouri, serve as our production spaces.  While it can be argued that we are no Rancho De La Luna, what we have is special.  The sounds of our wives making fun of us, a dog howling, or the kids playing Minecraft in the background contribute to the perks of working with us. By the way, has anyone else noticed that their kids will spend ALL DAY doing manual labor in a video game and NONE OF THE DAY doing actual manual labor?  Beats me. 

 

Dandy McCandy Studios is our jumping off point.  This is where we collaborate, record, and bounce idiotic ideas off of each other.  It makes us feel cool, okay?

But why the name Dandy McCandy?

We named our "studio" Dandy McCandy Studios after an unforgettable shared experience between our families:

Dandy McCandy, the man and legend, started as a spooky campfire story to scare the bejeezuses out of our kids.  During the annual Langston/Hammond campout when the littlest kids, Grace and Finn, were three and four years old, they demonstrated little to no respect for the world around them, wandered away constantly, and dropped their candy wrappers everywhere they went. Each night they BEGGED to hear spooky stories around the campfire.  Sticky with s'mores one suffocatingly hot summer evening, each camper had a turn to share their best and scariest story.  There were promises made by the mud and mosquito-bite covered spawn to NOT get scared NO MATTER WHAT, such that ample liberties were taken by all parents involved to tell respectable, spooky stories, the likes of which Missouri ghosts would endeavor to embody.  No one remembers any story from that year except the tragic tale of Dandy McCandy (RIP).  Per Matt, Dandy McCandy was a young boy who went camping with his family many moons before the Langston/Hammond campout.  He didn't like to listen to his parents and often wandered away willy-nilly across the expansive park.  So defiant was he, on the last day of camp he wandered away and his devasted parent's couldn't find him (okay, its a little inappropriate).  As such, the parents finally had to, you know, just leave, and poor lil' Dandy was left to DIE and his ghost would forevermore roam the campgrounds, surviving on the candy of the littlest campers each summer.  The ONLY way to avoid a terrifying encounter with Dandy was to leave NO SIGN of your candy around the campsite, lest he be lured into your camp to steal your candy, and consequently, your s'mores fixins (gasp).  The end.  Smug with all of his educating of the children on respecting the earth and your elders, Matt didn't notice the blood-curdling screams and tears of the children who were begging him to stop.  Shaking in their flip-flops, they steadfastly refused to sleep or cooperate for the duration of the camping trip, certain that Dandy McCandy was lurking around every tree waiting to snatch their candy.  The wives glared at Matt for the next two days a la "way to go, Asshole", to which Matt, with great futility, tried to explain "they PROMISED they wouldn't get SCARED!" It was YEARS before any of us could mention the name Dandy McCandy without children clinging to their mothers and sobbing.  Obviously, it provides us all with fits of glee these days to recall the harrowing tale of the candy-obsessed dipshit and the frightened children.  But seriously, Matt, what a dick.