Hello. I'm Lenny Burns - genius, egotist, tender kinky mentalist, poet, and drunk.
Friends, don't you ever get the feeling that the music's over and the lights have long been turned out? Doesn't it make your skin crawl every time one more characterless little rock-band bends over frontways only to tickle some odious A&R man's pederast fancy? Cranking into flatulent first gear and staying there, with mediocre rock-school rock and banal lyrics? Well, friends, me too, me too.
I was driven to make music by the primeval germs of danger we knew as rock & roll and punk, way back before everything got all so A&R freeze-dried and devoid of identity. A lot of people these days seem to think an aesthetic is something to send you to sleep. And in most cases they're right. Be it ever so unintentionally.
Friends, let me tell you, I wouldn't dream of telling you I'm different without the music-industry-stabbing evidence to back it up.
Listen, friends. Listen to 'I Feel Like A New Woman' - a big bam-boom of Burnsian libido. Listen to 'Lingerie' - a heartbreaking tale of a problem column peccadillo. Listen to 'Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know' - a Byronic swashbuckle through circumcision and Nietzsche. And listen to 'Mr Sex' - a fast-food foot-tapper for out-of-line girls to line-dance to.
Stop the rot. Abandon careerist rock-bands who look for a corporate deal and a pension plan out of music. Strap your mind's ear to the laboratory operating table and elevate it to the storm-bathed turrets of your Bavarian castle. Let the flash-lightning life-force of Lenny Burns zap new life into your starving musical soul. Why, you've been hungry so long you can't remember the taste of fresh greatness. Let Lenny into your life. Let me in, and again you can cry: 'It's alive! IT'S ALIVE!'
