Girl Band
The Talkies

IO-SONO-I-GIRL-BAND

I realized it as soon as I heard the first delirious track, in all that bitterness, in the distorted mouth, in the diSgust, that's exactly where you will always see me happily wallowing

but what do you know with your polished playlists, with the plagiocovers, the polished metAl with silver polish, the riffs that are really quite good, the terrifying drummer, the deep and warm voices ohsoamazing

what disgust.

fiercely disconnected angry, that's what the Girl Band are

and since 2011 they'd like to annihilate you

they shout ungraciously from inside a padded cell

they dedicate twisted guitars to you, cruelly dragged on concrete, mocking instruments thrown at you that might fall back on you

that like boulders might tear a shoulder

that like thin blades might slice you swiftly snip-snip-snip-snip-snip-snip

their goal is not to delight you, they are devastation cirrhosis filth legal or illegal psycHotropics

they tangle, they writhe, they are bruised and tormented sOunds

deafening slaps on the facE and there is no melody, none

they don't want to please you and perhaps they don't even see you, do you feel that weight on your chest? good, let it crush you

now lay down on the icy conveyor belt and down-down-down to the dissection room

do you hear the screech of the bone saw? and that drum sound is the press for your crackling skulls

try to sing them in the shower if you can

but what do you know, with vinyls that smell like a closet.

discomfort is not just a damn little word in your good employee's dictionary

by the way, have you already ironed your shirt? Make sure it has sleeves long enough.

Bend.

Endure.

In silence.