Nineteen ninety-three was a long way from the halcyon days of digital downloads, myspace buzz and bedroom mass production.
Buried in Scottish woodlands, with a somewhat melted cassette recorder and cassettes draped in sellotape (over the already broken tabs), was a creative force which hadn't been seen in the area for an age. This punk/funk/grunge trio felt destined for vertigo-inducing heights, however, only the drummer showed his true talent.
I always expected as much. You could tell by the way he hand-painted cassettes pink. Or created collage after collage for album covers. Or collated crumpled set lists into a tour programme complete with backstage passes. This was a man who carved shapes into his toast and then wrote songs about it. He was a creative maverick obsessed with detail. Details which created a bigger picture. Yes he went on to win awards for his work but his band mates have never truly forgotten the lesson he taught them—that a little madness and obsession couple with hard work and talent will always produce something special.
That is what you will see here. It is not a pink hand-painted cassette but it is certainly the offspring of one.
by the way...
Mark's fiddling with the site.
Hopefully, he won't be too long.