Although we occasionally do stints with other “singers” and “songwriters,” the raison d’être of The Royal Dutch Scam remains the music and magic of Steely Dan. But alas, nothing is what it seems. Because as much as we noodle around Steely Dan, it’s all about our own lives.

We love music. We live music. We love Steely Dan. We love playing music together. Above all, we love performing in front of people who love this gorgeous music as much as we do — what’s not to like?

The music of Don & Walt brings so much depth, joy, and other random abstract qualities to our lives and work that we just can’t stop. We listen, we dive, we dwell, we reflect, we re‑listen, and we play — repeat. So it’s only fair to say that Steely Dan plays us.

We have conversations about piano‑versus‑guitar voicings. We buy leather ponchos and elevator shoes, hoping to fit in despite all things. We try to re‑impersonate the perfect rock ’n’ roll image (after being totally disoriented in the landscape of hero identification — after the traumatic unmasking of our heroes at the Grammys in 2000).

We consume, we rattle about it (under a sunlamp), we jive; we’re even willing to put our relationships and star imagos at stake to just get it right.

In fact, one or two band member breakups may have been indirectly caused by the mental damage we suffer having to deal with those Dan mysteries for multiple decades. If no one verifies our theories about the R&B rebop and the final destination of the Technicolor Motorhome, who else ever will?

At the end of the day, exhausted from analyzing all the story angles and sub‑characters of the personae — and their metaphors – and their backstories — that appear on the catwalk of, let alone, Glamour Profession, we laugh, we hug, and we drink. What else can we do?

As for Steely Dan — we’ll never get it. And Fagen and Becker, damn, they must have known that, the bastards. We picture them out‑laughing everybody, including the press, music promoters in general, the alleged Grammys, and Wynton Marsalis.

So here we are: ten lost souls looking for other cats to drown ourselves in collective self‑pity. At least we’ll have some wonderful music to float on. Hop on!

– Tom

Lo van Gorp – lead vocals, sax
Diederik van Vleuten – piano, keyboards, minstrel
Eric van de Bovenkamp – piano, keyboards
Erik Rutjes – guitar
Boudewijn Lucas – bass
Mark Stoop – drums
Arjan Muusz – tenor sax
Tom Beek – tenor sax

And our Eurasian Brides:
Simone Pormes – backing vocals
Debbie Helaha – backing vocals
Dedre Twiss – backing vocals

Lex Amrein – FOH sound engineer