Cool amber notes beckoning, story teller, chuck us a grin. Thats Daniel on liquid lead vocals, Sardonic Craig on Bass, nonchalant dreamer Lucio on lead guitar, and Matt the piston fisted drummer with a lovers touch on the boom cracker-smacks, that is, drums. Daniel and his band weave to and fro on stage like barley in brogues, stemming richly from beer addled pastures. Even Big Craig is a ripe berry of vast bass grace. Daniels face is up turned to the crazed skies swimming secretly from damp blackened ceilings of the foot thumped club, the character of London etched on his vocals like wickedly seeing eyes from an honest past.The music is a dream, a pastoral municipal of smoke stained faces, busted roofs flowering against bleak towers; they leer brilliantly; the silver droplets of the lead guitar temper the tales of let down love, the time beats, and Goldstreaks stay true behind a black chimney.Daniel is not the first soul drawn to the majesty of nature and the shadow of the human condition, hello Keats, Shelley, Dickinson, but he may be the first and the best at giving his delicious poetry the greatest music, the most charisma and mind curling lyrics to love it, live. Now light that fag, draw on that cool pint and find your space on the dank floors of existence, head back, there now, go with the magical truth like a wind-chime at twilight because; "In the end/ the egos all drop off" they do, but beautiful music never dies.Written by Rachel Renouf www.rachelrenouf.com
