A fulsome foursome gift from our 20 years of blipvert breakbeat noise: THis one is the favourite of T-virus (singer/witch/muse) and is about the cultural appropriation of punk rock aesthetics into everyday normalcy: Hey, normals! Leave our (ripped jeans, blue hair, tattoos, piercings and Ramones teeshirts) alone!
SHowing our softer side ~ a shimmering and surprisingly delicate exposure of graceless, haunting devotion. THe mood is bituous rather than bitch-uous:
“You said it was forever, you were gone by the dawn.”
BOuncing down the road to annihilation, whispering tales of terror ~ fake news, false rumours, fraudulent governments and faux patriotism. ATrocities in the cities and, as the war machine keeps turning: WHo do you love? WHo can you trust? WHich lies do you believe?
THe CRiminals of EVolution are not in the twittersphere, we have no presence on face-ache, we are google non-plussed.
WE're not whatsappin', snapchattin', instagrammin' or tumblrin' because we're not twelve years old. WE're just not pinterested.
WHere we are is out in the real smelly, sexy, unpredictable world; scattered across the globe from EUrope to the AMericas, in the sun and the rain and the breeze, amongst the waves and the trees.
WE have mud on our knees.
ONce in a blue moon we crawl out from under our variously located rocks to engage in a bit of mutual artistic compulsion and while we'd be rilly rilly happy for you to get in touch (firstname.lastname@example.org), we don’t ask you to like, follow, friend, favourite or upvote us. WE're off-trend. WE're a dirty little secret.
THere is a world outside your window and all your screened devices have an off button.