There Will Be Fireworks

來自蘇格蘭格拉斯哥的樂隊。
 
You can get your mits on a real-life-honest-to-God-physical-copy of our debut album HERE! There Will Be Fireworks is four people. Some people think three. But sometimes more than four. But basically four. Two of them aren't twins. Three of them were in the band then got the other one and changed the name. We imagine the Eponymous Economist is distraught. We imagine lots of things. The other one makes us better than we were before. Except his timekeeping. He is a distimeous mess who should frankly sort his life out. Sometimes we do silly things but mostly we talk about doing them. One day we discovered delay and thought it was funny in a good way. We are thusly post-rock to appease our friend and sometime cohort Vinny The Barrier-Jumper and Glockenspielist with the Awesome Reverb Pedal. But we aren't actually, except that we don't know what we are or whatever. Three of us are in the EngLitSoc, one only nominally though. One of us is shoe-rave and wears white hoodies. One of us is obsessed with Jeff Mangum. One of us is obsessed with German nuns. One of us likes to move all the furniture in his house from one room to another as a pastime. And he never answers his phone. We never tell each other anything; but we're working on it. One of us took one for the team once but we don't talk about that unless we are making fun of him. So we talk about it pseudo-regularly. We have two guitars, a bass guitar and a drum set. Once or twice we use violin. We like pia-pia-piano. We like delay and distortion and capos and slides. We like Karen the Trumpeter and Singer and we like the occasional accordian. And organ. And glockenspiel. And reverb when it is said in a funny accent. We hope you do too. We don't take ourselves seriously. We'd like to, but we can't. After many moons of faffing about, we have started to get our act together over the last few months and actually feel quite good about the little cleety niche we have eeked out for ourselves. We are quiet sometimes and loud sometimes. Sometimes in-between. You should come round one day and listen to the four-track and eat Flake cakes in the dark with us. They taste better in the dark. Or come to our gigs. We should be having some sooooooooon. All four of us are the progenitors of Cleet, the sport of kings. It can also be called Cleetball. Either way, it's all so cleety. And I lied. Two of us took one for the team. Adieu.