Vocals "Mr Raye"

Mr. Raye: The Phantom of Fortune

By day, he's a suave entrepreneur with the Midas touch. By night, he's a ghost in leather boots, blazing through neon-lit cities on borrowed time. Known only as Mr. Raye, he's a name that echoes in luxury boardrooms and underground clubs alike — a man of mystery, myth, and millions.

No one knows where he was born, or if the stories of him turning his first million in a Bangkok poker den are true — but what is known is that Mr. Raye never stays in the same place twice. From a penthouse in Berlin to a backroom jazz bar in New Orleans, he moves like smoke through the cracks of the world — elusive, electric, unforgettable.

He made his fortune building tech start-ups before ghosting them at their peak, leaving only a trace of digital gold and an army of stunned investors. Some call him a genius, others a rogue visionary. The press tries to follow him, but he always slips through the net, trailing only rumors and guitar feedback.

His style? A blend of vintage rock star and off-grid outlaw — black denim, mirrored sunglasses, and a suitcase full of burner phones. You might find him jamming with washed-up legends one night, then giving a TED Talk under an alias the next. He doesn't own a house, but he's got passports from places most people can't pronounce.

But here's the twist: the government's got eyes on him. Always has. They say he owes millions in taxes. He says he owes them nothing but silence. They chase shadows, and he dances just out of reach — always one step ahead, always halfway to somewhere else.

Mr. Raye isn't a man — he's a movement. A whispered legend. A leather-clad ghost in the machine. And if you're lucky enough to meet him, don't bother asking for a selfie — he'll be gone before you blink, leaving behind only the echo of his laughter and the scent of bourbon and trouble.

Guitar "Rik Scorpio"

Six Strings, Zero Mercy

Clear the stage — Rik Scorpio has entered the building.

The six-string outlaw at the helm of The Rattler Band, Rik doesn't play guitar — he wrangles it. Forged in the fires of a full-blown military career, he's got skin like a 7.62 full metal jacket and a passion for blowing things up that borders on artistic. Raised on rations and Marshall amps, Rik's life has been a high-octane mix of camouflage and chaos — now channelled through six strings of pure hellfire.

His playing? Think precision engineering meets electrified AK47 mayhem. Every note ricochets off the walls like it's got somewhere dangerous to be, and every solo sounds like Zeus found a Les Paul and got bored of throwing lightning bolts.

There's no frills, no bluff — just a single-cut guitar, a Marshall stack, and a vibrato so aggressive it should come with a blast radius warning—minimal pedals. Maximum impact. Scorpio bends strings to within a whisper of snapping and somehow makes it sound like vintage rock just crawled out of the grave and picked a fight with the 21st century.

Rik doesn't perform — he detonates. One minute it's a riff, the next it's a controlled musical explosion. Don't expect small talk either — you're more likely to get a tone that headbutts your soul and leaves it ringing.

Backed by the firepower of The Rattler Band, a rhythm section tighter than your jeans after Christmas, Rik doesn't just play classic rock. He reanimates it, duct-tapes it to a rocket, and fires it back into orbit with a Marshall-fuelled war cry and a cheeky grin.

So if you're after polite, toe-tapping, radio-friendly background music…

You're in the wrong postcode.

But if you're chasing sweat, swagger, and riffs that smell faintly of petrol and danger —

Follow the sound of The Rattler Band. Rik Scorpio's already waiting.

Bass " Phil The Bass"

The Low-End Thunder of The Rattler Band

Every band has its heartbeat. For The Rattler Band, it's the tall, silent shadow lurking by the amp stack — known only as Phil the Bass.

Towering above mere mortals and dressed like a psychedelic zebra lost in the '70s, Phil's statement spearmint-striped trousers aren't just a fashion choice — they're a warning. When he steps on stage, you're about to feel bass lines so heavy they come with their own postcode.

He doesn't say much. He doesn't need to. His bass does all the talking — and what it says hits you square in the chest like a steel-toed mule on a bad day. Smooth? Yes. Subtle? Not a chance. Solid? Like granite dipped in groove.

Phil plays with the stoic intensity of a man who's spent years training in an underground dojo of funk, blues, and unapologetic rock. He's the kind of player who can make a single note rumble your pint off the table — all while maintaining the calm expression of someone waiting for his laundry to finish.

He doesn't chase the spotlight, but somehow, it always finds him. Possibly because of the trousers, possibly because people can't believe how much sound is coming from a bloke who looks like he might moonlight as a librarian with a Bass Guitar.

Want to know how powerful Phil is? NASA once tried to weaponize his bass tone. Parliament banned it. Children cry. Grown men air-bass uncontrollably. Dogs howl. And still, Phil just nods politely and plays the next tune.

So next time you see The Rattler Band live, don't just look at the frontman — cast your eyes to stage Right, follow the stripes, and feel the rumble. That's Phil the Bass, and he's not here to mess around.

He's here to shake souls

Drums " Captain Jon"

Rock 'n' Roll's Deepest Secret Weapon

Who is Captain Jon? A question that philosophers, barmen, and customs officials across the globe still struggle to answer.

Once a shadow beneath the waves as a Royal Navy submariner, Captain Jon has officially "never been" to more places than most of us have on our bucket lists. Whisper his name in certain coastal bars and you'll get a knowing nod, a nervous glance, or a story that starts with, "Well, we shouldn't be talking about this…"

Now retired from the silent service (or so he claims), Jon swapped sonar for snare drums and torpedoes for toms, now blasting beats as the rhythmic engine of the Classic Rock powerhouse, The Rattler Band.

He plays with the calm precision of a man who's spent weeks underwater with nothing but Cold War tension and black coffee and with the ferocity of someone who's waited a lifetime to make live music venues shake. It's said he once broke a drumstick on a cymbal just by looking at it too hard.

Behind the kit, he's a force. Offstage, he's a riddle wrapped wearing a pork pie hat. He may casually drop a tale about Gibraltar, then say, "But of course, I was never there." You're left wondering if he's joking, or if MI6 might suddenly burst through the pub door.

In short: Captain Jon is part drummer, part enigma, all legend.

Catch him live with The Rattler Band, just don't ask too many questions. You may not get answers. Or worse… You might.