quiet marauder

Cardiff’s kookiest Quiet Marauder get to releasing the first part of their singles trilogy, this I should say coming on the back of their debuting epic opus ‘men’ which collectively gathered some 111 tracks – yes you read right 111 tracks across a mammoth four CD’s, and not one a dud I can tell you. Between the wit, the weird and the wacky we’ve been regaled by the musical mayhem musings of moustaches, the point of Bono, mussels, tescos and last of the summer wine and whatever else has been deemed fit for anarchic teasing, they follow in the best tradition of lunatic legacies left by surreal pop forefathers long since exited stage left and twin anti pop ambitions by way of impish music hall merriment, Simon the leader of these merry pranksters can at once be seen as circus ringmaster or dictator depending on which side his moustache dresses first thing in the morning who from his pulpit (soapbox to you and  me) despatches wise words and cautionary advice to young folk not so invested with the savvy of the streetwise (some – the uncharitable few we shall know them as – may view this as the blind leading the blind). ‘pretty girls are (pretty) feat. My name is Ian’ is one such token of advice summoned by experience and an unhealthy observation of life, imagine Hefner as retuned by Dalmatian Rex and the Eigentones doing Vic n’ Bob pub singer croons all backed by the wistfulness chuff and puff of a buoyantly bright eyed rustic incline – charmingly daft. In October – second of the trilogy will see the unearthing of ‘everytime we think of one another (a petal falls from the flowers on our graves) feat. Francesca’s word salad’- can’t wait to see the t-shirt or the title squeezed upon a 7 inch paper label – anyhow doo wop 50’s styled bubblegum ramalama type affair, quite clever all said kinda Mud gone wrong, honeycombed by a femme pop icing all sealed shut in a death disc stylee and stoked up enough with forlorn bitter sweetness as to have you shedding a sly stray tear. Following that in November there’ll be ‘SOS’- in truth our favourite of the three not least because it courts with a subtle late 70’s punk pop detailing that loosely hints at a ‘Dirk’ era Adam Ant and comes wired with a degree of unhinging psychosis.  

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