Our heroes stroll into scene. A dusty, desolate, desert scene. Not from these parts. Not of this time. And yet, strangely familiar. Like a face once glimpsed. They dispassionately survey their surroundings. It’s not a happy sight. Where have the good guys gone?
The Velvet Underground? The Jesus And Mary Chain? Hell, the goddamn Ronettes knew how to make a track. Is there no one left to believe in? "We'll bring ‘em back", they say. "All of ‘em". "We've got all ya’ need".
A guitar. A beat. Attitude an acre long. A guy. A girl. All the tension that entails. You see, sex sells. Sleaze sells. They know. They think they're special. They just might be right. They could be saviours. Or they could just light another cigarette, pour another drink and leave us to drown in a sea of banality. Who knows? This, then, is a start...
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