Greetings to all you merchants of menace and skinny villainesses, Dani here again with a belated update on all things fantastic and filthy;  

 At the time of writing, September is almost through, with skies fire-paved and a gorgeous Indian Summer settling like a phoenix on the East coast of England, the last few weeks finding me extremely busy with the trivialities of being at home and working in a band at the same time. Thus creativity has flourished under this wonderful boon and the first ideas for a new Cradle album have started to creep and crawl in the far-flung shadows of our combined imaginations. Bearing in mind we have merely the skeletal structures of a few songs laid out, that Autumnal vibe is already spreading like a mist, and the tunes are sounding very malefic indeed. Very much like the 'Godspeed...' album thrust up a gear.  

Paul has moved to a luxury apartment on the dockside quay in Ipswich, the apocalyptic vision of a reddened sun split by the thin silhouettes of bobbing yacht masts, highly inspirational, tempering his writing with furious abandonment. In the meantime Martin is hard at work on his practice kit back in the Czech Republic, providing the midi backbone to Paul's initial structures, which are then later embellished by guitars and keyboards. Luckily Dave lives in spitting distance of Paul's new gaff, so he's in partnership with the basic skeleton of every track, which is then flown past Ashley (who has just moved this week from Phoenix to LA...), who then goes all symphonic on it's rugged ass. Things therefore are moving well towards our new, as-yet-untitled album, with a possible studio start date of early January to be ringed in all gothic diaries. Bring it on!  

Now I think everybody got to hear about the stupid happenings at this year's Bloodstock with the kilo weight candy balls and the cancelled set, so much so this will be the last thing I'll say about it. Period.  It's just a crying shame that some idiot ruined for so many people, least of all and very selfishly, me, as it was the last of our Summer festival run, it was on home turf and friends and family were present. Plus the weather was damn near perfect and there was a really cool vibe amongst people as the sun slunk towards our headline set. Aside from the fact that Paul, in really bad pain, had to be whisked to hospital for a body scan, two children, one of whom was handicapped, were almost hit by these deadly projectiles. And who the hell sells these things at a fucking festival anyway? Stupid beyond belief.  

The next gigs to undertake in the Gothic diary were in fact the last shows for the band this year and they were in Russia. And due to Charles being tied up for these two shows held in Moscow and St Petersburg, James was on hand for what turned out to be the most mellow and best played shows of the year. Mellow because everything ran smoothly to clockwork, partly thanks to having an English promoter and (Snoop Doggy Dogg redecorating the venues right before us) and also because the hotels were utterly exquisite, especially the one in Moscow which boasted a two door access bathroom, a 50 dollar breakfast (me, Dave and Steve eating the equivalent of three to get our money's worth and still walking out with three tonnes of pastries and bio-yoghurts in our pockets - at least that is what Dave said the stains were from!) and a bulbous night bar on the roof that overlooked pretty much all of Moscow (it was spherical and a tad vertiginous) and required Mafia credentials to get in, though I managed somehow to do it in carpet slippers...  

Other quick news (the obvious being that September is now halfway through October!) is that Dave has a new ESP custom bass design waiting in the wings (artwork courtesy of Sam Shearon), which, if it looks even half as good as the template on his laptop screen, will be an amazing piece of kit, airbrushed with some of the best Cthulhu-esque artwork this side of sunken R'lyeh. Also, the much-anticipated "Gospel Of Filth', 5 years in the making, is at last ready to buy via the web site, with an imposed cut off date of midnight on Hallowe'en before which to get your claws on this hugely researched modern day grimoire. But be warned! Not only is the curfew being strictly enforced, but the limited stock is already half accounted for, so time is really of the essence. Once the collector's edition is gone, it's gone for good in the swirling fogs of time.  

The next blog should throw up some big surprises and I really wish at the time of going to press I was able to impart them fully to you, but unfortunately my little sweethearts, I have to curb my forked tongue for the time-being. Nevertheless the next e-mail should be quite contentious, if not full of the pith and pun that you bloodsucking freaks hanker to expect.  

 All the very brest,
 Your good fiend,
 Count Filth.
 

PS Please enjoy the following random photos found in the Behind the scenes, visual blog section. In the next few weeks, the great reveal...  Stay tuned votive disciples!