Save the date, the boys are back in town, no beating around the bush, this gig is better late than never.
These birds of a feather a ready to break ice and throw thoughtless pennies at the wind, or something.
Come bob-out with the homies and catch a non-contagious vibe as we break legs and get upset about spilt milk.
The Preservatives - notorious mustard-cutters from way back.
Saint Peter's Thursday - speak of the devil's advocate, these boys get out of hand.
Lucky Strikes - I think I developed emphysema at one of their concerts.
Come and see what tertiary-level arts education can do for you by parting with your hard-earned cash in exchange for a solid 4 hours of live music.
Can you dig it?
$10 and a handshake on the door. Music at 9pm. Be there or be a dead horse.
For those who made it this far - a poem.
Stagnant coffee chills, late in the evening,
Fermenting some dark spirit, and aging like wine.
From a sip of the tonic, the note-smith plucks,
A canticle hymn, and perennial rhyme
Sub-division rehearsal, once again, from-the-top
Old teacups, refilled in good time
With vintage champagne, our spirit grows young,
by virtue of chardonnay vine
From evenings in garages, and lockdowns in-lounge
Three combos emerge in their prime
All clad in their jackets, to make such a racket,
like benevolent organised crime.