The band began in the winter of two-thousand and five when the ebullient Adam and the august Evan – then studying at college together – gravitated towards being in cahoots with one another because of a mutual admiration for the word ‘tapas’ without knowing its meaning.
Some quantity of years later – after much painful struggling against painfully bad songs and excruciating band names – the illustrious Holly became prevalent on the scene. All were besotted by her agreeably killer bass themes.
Along the way drummers drifted by like elusively translucent vexation fabricators. For a short while the licentious James was tied down to fill this role; but he soon got abducted and was last seen tripping the light fantastic on the incongruous streets of Norway.
Soon after this the search was recommenced in high and low places, until one fortuitous day in two-thousand and eight when a flyer upon a notice board in a successful manchester branch of a successful chain of music stores was spied by the nonpareil Rodrigo. All were enthralled by his pleasingly quick-witted grooves.
Smooth was the sailing from that day to this. And the sailing in the future, though perhaps occasionally inadvertently diverted by overt and unforgiving examples of landmass, shall continue to continue this way.
Then we can begin to subjugate and work towards lamentation.