You should come to this...

I got this from my man, Martin T. Martian. He sings in Scotlands brightest indie hopes INDAFUSION...

"We will be launching the E.P. with a gig at the Bongo Club in Edinburgh, on April the 17th, so please put a note in your diary, tie a bit of string around yr finger, or write it on the back of your hand and don't wash it for a month!

The EP features the following tracks:
1. David & The Great Fog
2. Elephant: Emperor of the Animals
3. I Psychedelicised the Children
4. Come Home Katy 5

It features the Electro Harmonix *Big Muff* pedal; a string quartet lovingly arranged by Pete; and a fabby cover painted by Martin's wife Hannah.

You can listen to Come Home Katy 5 on our Myspace page - www.myspace.com/indafusion"

Support comes from Livi noise-nicks the Spacial Entrepeneurs - www.thespacials.com ... and if thats not enough for yer, I'll be mouthing off inbetween bands as the evenings official compere. Should be a cracker folks, so come and have a schmooze with all the press types and F list celebrities.

I'll see you doon the front!

...and this...

The noble Komrade Waddellski and I thought it was about time for some proper prayer type action in the L-Y-C. So 4pm on Friday March 31st sees our wee house turn into a prayer-squat for 48 straight hours of non stop God bothering.

Music shall be made, supplications shall be uttered, rivers of tea shall flow.

Should be a giggle so its all welcome (+bring yer friends).

A Rumour...

"They say Aslan is on the move - perhaps already landed"...

Frankenstein’s Monster IS the Bride!

Lopsided and awkward she is…an addled medley of non-conformed miscellany, lurching through the ages.

What harmony of horrors comprise her carcass?
The dead made alive.
What fearful force animates her awkward flesh?
The Father (sometimes estranged).
What purpose does she serve?
She sifts through mystery, seeking after Truth.

And now she is restless,
sensing her approaching Groom.

Silent huffs hiss through her teeth in hoarse vexation… she is lonely… longing for the consummation… wailing deep-souled-song as she awaits redemption… beautification…

to be a monster no more.

Dreaming Other Peoples Dreams...

Spent a large slab of the weekend chilling out in Embra dreaming other peoples dreams. Privileged as anything.

Met up in a place called 'The Lot' in the Grassmarket - loving it - a chilled out venue that does well tasty grub. Mayhaps a tad too fragile to one day withstand legions of demented mosh-pitters rutting within its dainty bowels, but none the less an ideal setting to hear about what’s going down inside the heads and hearts of other urban pilgrims.

It was refreshing to remember that it’s a big old world out there. New places and people outside of this weird-assed self contained community (Livi, bands, alterna-punters - that whole thing) are good. Homosapiens spend so much time creating ghettos for ourselves, introspectively defining who we are and who we aren’t. People outside of our little box help us avoid becoming a community of pretentious inbred hillbillies.

That evening I headed on up to Henrys Cellar for familiar faces in a new configuration, a ten-legged behemoth jamming under the collective moniker of ‘Jackie Treehorn’. New dreams again presented themselves, this time in the shape of a first gig. A veritable scorcher.

Both appertainings ensured that ma rock bladder – once swollen and bulbous – was thoroughly expunged. Yas.