In Brighton, the rain runs hard and fast down Queens Road, past kebab shops and street fights and neon lights.
Hen parties spill out onto the pavement with leather skirts bound tight. Bouncers are shaking down the last kids in town, as train strikes besiege the midnight commuters heading north. The taxis wait like army ants strung out across the concourse. The streets are alive with fire on a Saturday night. In the Albert, we sit and lament over ruinous nights and drink until our bellies are full. In the morning we will sip coffee in fear of the bleary sunrise whilst seagulls pick through the debris of all that came before. Over the years we have gigged many towns like this, endlessly searching for the heart of it all. Half a lifetime of sweat and blood in pubs and clubs, in parks and other assorted shitholes. We are rum brothers who hip-flask our way from gig to gig. Puffing on roll-ups, knocking back the Guinness and shooting pool. Always lending a cautious wary eye to the tale of excess. This ain’t no dead-celebrity hotel swimming pool trip. This is a south coast blues trip. The quest for a better life. With our debut album ‘Let Sleeping Dogs Lie’ we were just two! With this sophomore release, we have the cavalry behind us. Some kool kats: the Hammond, the cowbell, the harp and the dirty bass mixing blues with punk with country and soul all ready to take a ride for one last time. Trouble and thunder heading in from out of town. All this with so much trouble in mind.