And everyone was there, the angel headed hipsters, the hooped buzz-cuts, the odes in shades, the ‘Bobby Sands’’ dressed in black with flecks of colour and us well we were wearing denim gorging on the opiates of light that filled the warehouse with an exotic blue; that pushed on your eyeballs like hot thumbs.

            And we drank tall drinks that tasted of mint and chain-smoked rolls while we sank further drinks. And girls brushed by, hot as hell, dancing with foxes, yeah they were groovy could of laid bad dick on them.

And so this was it; the definition of cool they said, an uber orgasm for those who get off on a self indulgent milkshake that is the ....London.... centric scene. So yeah-yeah-yeah we carried on smoking, we carried on hanging, hanging so loose. And we listened to the tongue that spoke, ‘dy-na-mite,’ listened to the fashion that said, ‘lay it on me,’ listened to the others that cooed like doves over art, over literature over the new dessert boot. And we said, ‘seya mate,’ or ‘wow that’s gnarley,’ as we entwined and dined with badgers that pawed; pawed over wood raisins and glycerol ethers.

            And at some point in the night like a Vonnegut blurb we lifted our fingers and drew in the air the words, ‘so delicious.’

 So damn delicious our guitar noise cracked and the vocal jumped as the loop came in as the sun came up. And we returned home, hard, horny, full of butter and curd, back to the water that separates the North where we supped and supped as our heads rolled back and said,

            “We’ve done good; there was Maida Vale, our Radio One session with

            Lamacq, our tracks for the airwaves. There was London London and yeah London; Old Blue Last, the Macbeth, 93 feet east, a Camden 3 story, a warehouse party, a buffalo bar, an early White Heat. Then there was Paris with the kids who smoked ‘Curtis’s’ fags, while we choked back blue Gauloise and jumped metros under the Seine with them til’ we could see Versaille. The sun kings . Then a Roman holiday south-west to Bath and back up to Sheffield, the cockpit, a railcar to Norwich and its humble art centre. And Summer struck with Leeds and Reading, caught the eye and brush of the NME whom said ‘watch out for our sound,’ labelled us for next year. Then White Heat once again and Manchester, picked for ‘in the City’ and fierce panda and the castle. And Leeds again, ..London.., and rehearse now the year is dead…but we move on To Italy, ..Scotland.., ....London.... and press………”   

I’ve done a little digging in my time, Max is my name. I found an old cat who liked the smell of cooking. I found a cat who wanted me to sacrifice children on an alter and pick roses in the summertime while drinking some sort of home brew wine. Well I did you know, yeah I picked and I picked with this girl; it was funny not like ha ha funny but just well weird coz her name was in fact Rose. We kissed a lot and I rubbed my nose within her... hell you could say I picked her petals. My name is Max  I’ve done a lot of digging you know! I own a pet shop and in my spare time I pick pines from the porcupines and drink a lot of milk. I have a heavy sack that gets sucked by mammal hump, hell he aint too tall no not mammal hump. We eat cheese in the alleyways where the others play dice with each other. Hey, I’ve done a little digging in my time, Max is my name. I say, ‘ are you the one that goes round and round hanging like your just so cool?’ No…well that’s fine... tie your laces you silly mare don’t want to trip; get tricked, lay on your back while the other sleeps downstairs with only air in his head. Max is my name I’ve done a little digging in my time.........dig dig

bring on the summer, this is just a note to say we are real excited about playing Leeds and Reading Festival this year. You can catch us at Leeds on Saturday on the BBC introducing stage around 5.45pm, and then on Sunday at Reading around 6.30pm.

Many thanks to all the people who have all ready layed on great gigs for us this summer so far. We have enjoyed em all.

Hope to see you all soon
ta ta.

Like a ripe cauliflower it was, tinged with lavender it was. ‘Boy,’ I gasp as I thumb my radish end in…up and down up and down that’s what Old Helmet head likes, ta, ta. Oh oh oh…I do believe, yes I do believe the cloud has gone. Therefore brush down your wands; your slushy cucumber wands; for there is no time to be wet behind the skin. Yes so long you winter dove, so long and farewell. Let the sun brush my skin with that winy red; yes let the warmth creep along.

Just to say our new demo is baked and will be up asap. It includes produced versions of the tracks we aired at Maida Vale: fruits and Ode to Joy. Also feel free to check us out at our next gigs.

Norwich Art Centre: 24th April,

and then we have shows in London at Snap Crackle and Pop at club 333, Old Blue Last and The Macbeth: Dirty Bingo vs. Loud and Quiet.

(sometimes when you throw a stone it never comes back)