Born in August of the previous year ( 2006 so to say ), out of the world-famous chalk factory of Olafsvik, North Iceland, this piece of chalk freed itself from the common fate of its fellows through music. Grown up to the songs of his ancestors, some elegant singin' hobos ( sociological exceptions to the Viking's behaviours domination ), our sweetie piece of chalk decided to follow their path, as a good kid. Hence, he started chanting typical standards of his pretty remote region, such as ' I forgot the taste of the putrified skate', ' Blue tooth for Black Paste' or 'Tickling strokes, tender walks'. It started to get the whole neigbourhood ( until Akureyri, and even Husavik ) talk about itself, by making remarkables though brieves appearances in lava fields and boiling solfatares' areas, singin' these old traditional with a falsetto voice a cappela. In November, in Detifoss, the piece of chalk was shouting his perverted standards towards the rare winter visitors. Miss Ãsta Panda was amoung them. Fascinated, she suggested to play guitalele along with his singing. Few days after, hanging about the Westfjörds, the piece of chalk bumped into the red duchess of Novascotia, basking in the sun and whistling softly. Then the story goes very fast. All together, they write at least 5 original songs a day, and start touring around Iceland with their humongous pack of melodies, and picking some weirdos on their way to play with them. Here are only four of these genuine jewels, a tiny sample of their gathered talents, merely recorded with different dictaphones of different brand, both analogical or digital, in their neverappeased lust for experiments and melodies.....
