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I know this is a blatant plug, but Paul Hawkins bass players' band
Pre orders are up on www.myspace.com/jezusfactory
and you can hear them here www.myspace.com/thebeatmaras
Most non-selling selling point of the century?
PS Buy this!
the top when that is used as a marketing angle...
when that marketing angle actually works...
You already had more replies than a lyle thread...
who listen to shit music...
two have been the record label and two have been the guy whose name is being used as a marketing angle.
The quantity of posts doesn't change the fact we're not drawing the public in. Although maybe you're the first of many and the floodgates will now open...
everything is possible...
there has been an overwhelming display of enthusiasm for the pre release of The Beat Maras EP...
I should say that I listened to their Myspace and wasn't really convinced...
can't blame a guy for that
I do agree that it will appeal to more 'normal' kind of sounding music fans, although they are far more esorotic than that... Intelligent and accessible...... Two very good qualities..
did one of the Beat Maras feature in that god-awful ethical living feature in the Observer a year or so ago? I think he did because the name was burnt into my brain with utter hatred. Just remembering it is quite traumatic. I hope I never hear the name again. It was all about how ethical he was living in Hoxton in his stupid flat.
I also read that article and found it both thought provocing and entertaining, If you re-read it you will see that every line he wrote began with the first letters that spelt out T.H.E.S.C.R.E.A.M.O.F.T.H.E.B.U.T.T.E.R.F.L.Y. And had an accopanying artcle in VICE magazine which you should read to make things a little clearer!
Lucky they’re not fire proof, to push the faces through the sun.
Un-angled pupil, under the scrutiny of the core!
The English voices are warts and plaque and were the accent of daemons,
So lay to rest aside the blood fired washes.
Take us to the kilns of notherness.
Abort me onto the pustules, colic wounds and the elevator shafts.
Pushing our faces through the sun.
Norse ghosts were huddled on the wolf hills
And they talk over plots for the navy moon.
As cerulean saxophones bleat out the dieing barks of the herd
At least once upon a time.
There are the proofs of lions,
There are the eyes and the orange black sea kings.
It all curdles in magic pottery.
Impish alphabets twist with river squids,
Pushing their faces through the sun.
The needle death waits under magma
Conspiring with mercury headed worms.
With raucous rainbows dashed on arrival,
Like watercolour dams and brilliant geometry.
Survival and the sun and the skeins of leafy wings.
Crashing into the ground like heroic fighters.
Everyone is I, pressing their faces through the ground!