The Bidons
Clamarama

It was the second half of the 80s. Those were Rock'n'Roll years. Garage Punk years and riffs.

Iggy on the t-shirt stolen from the older brother. A kid jumping on the bed playing a racket and shouting "Ai uona bi iour dog."

Rock'n'Roll years, hormone pogo, Lysergic Emanation, the Sovereigns of Rochester and to hell with the rest.

Sure. To hell with the rest but very quietly, perhaps only thought softly when you're in the bathroom with the door locked. But what if you accidentally find a record and you get the urge to jump on the desk in your underwear, with arthritis, debts, the damn face of a colleague, expired insurance, car inspection, and the public debt?

I want my racket back.