Grabbed by their scruffs, thrown in a rough hessian sack and tossed in the lake shortly after birth by some farmer or other, Town of Cats shoulda been goners before they even got started. But attempted euthanasia’ll do funny things for friendships – that, and lack of oxygen. Rescued from the water’s numbing embrace by Mama Biscuits and her pack of feral moggies, Joe, Adam, Barney and Ben were shoved unceremoniously behind instruments, mewling and dripping. Ol’ Ma took up her trusty sax, and told the four to play up or pack it in.
And play they did. Spun fucked-up fairy tales of their former lives and spat ‘em out over brassy, skanking funk-folk, sang starry-eyed of childhood wonders and lustily of teenage highs, yowled and hissed at the moon with longing for something bigger and brighter than beige southern towns and the work-drink-sleep-repeat monotony of young adulthood. They twisted and stomped and yelled and blew and hammered, beasts possessed of the fiery, wild groove that spilled forth from their fingers and fangs.
Can’t sing? They’ll make you.
Can’t dance? They’ll make you.
They are Town of Cats.
Palco: The Forest
Tempo di esecuzione: Programma in arrivo!
Sito web: https://soundcloud.com/townofcats