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1988. Five young men with bowl haircuts, carrying the scent of a thrift market, wander bored through the proletarian streets of a Bob Dylan-shaded black and white New York. They are bored, with empty pockets, focused on just one thing: playing music.
Playing what they love, what they know how to do.
Our heroes wield their weapons and their passion. Vox teardrop guitars, organs, voices, and finally, they live.
Jingle jangle float from Vox amplifiers, Byrds, Dylan, vocal harmonies, harmonicas, folk rock. Gems from a garage soul
A sad fate, a step too far back and perhaps one too far forward.
Thankfully, the German "Screaming Apple" in '93 recovered these individual recordings, releasing an album to be cherished.
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