No, not the Drowningman album

How They Light Cigarettes in Prison is one guy. He goes by the name Nick Cigs. He is probably the second a cappella hardcore band. One important difference between him and Jud Jud, though, is that Nick just does the vocals for his original hardcore songs, with no "doo doo dat doo doo dat" in between. Another important difference is that Nick's songs are serious, floorpunching singalongs that will get you uncontrollably singing along. Although not technically retired, he has not played a show in two years, as he's been focusing on his "real" band, The Taste of Silver. But, when he actually played, usually at hardcore shows in basements or clubs, Nick would scream himself raw, holding either an unplugged or imaginary microphone, while most onlookers either fell in love or were completely confused.
How They Light Cigarettes in Prison released exactly one demo, which was once available for about $1 from Teenage Disco Bloodbath Records, who have, apparently, since disowned the tape.
Luckily for you, this bootleg is better than that tape. Recorded 11/23/03, in the stairwell going down to Kenmore subway station, in Boston, MA, Nick was opening for The Best Thing Ever. After a long speech, he sang these songs, with a little help from the audience:

Where Things Begin to Count
The Oxidation of Joan of Arc
Safety in Numbers
Untitled XLV

The Taste of Silver (Nick just plays guitar and doesn't sing)

"There's drug-sniffing dogs at Dollywood, my vacation plans are ruined!"

From the mid 80's until he was killed by a drunk driver in 1992, Deacon Lunchbox was Atlanta's only redneck hippy poet, punctuating each line of his poems by banging on an old torpedo casing with a hammer. Although technically a poet, if his shouting voice weren't so completely nonmusical, he surely would have fronted a band. Sometimes, he collaborated with Slim Chance and the Convicts or the Opal Foxx Quartet, but he usually did his performances alone, either at a music club or a bookstore. His surprisingly literary poetry often talked about drugs, sex, and life in the south, usually all in the same poem. Lyrically, I'd say his closest comparisons are The Silver Jews's David Berman and Charles Bukowski, but his style really is too unique for that sort of thing. I don't recommend listening to this as background noise; in fact, that's probably impossible. These are recordings you have to pay close attention to, and they're definitely best in small doses, but I dare you to get "Omni Beer" out of your head.

My Vacations Plans are Ruined
Omni Beer
Nadine and Tony
Death of an Amway Salesman

All of these are from Deacon's limited out of print CD, Rantin and Railin.
P.S.
The Omni was the name of Atlanta's sports arena while Deacon was alive.

Site with some audio and lyrics
Slim Chance's memories of Deacon