decent tune, not really worked out yet, but good enough to blow your mind while smoking a luber, drinking a beer, having a fag and shagging with the prettiest girl of your school. 

Oh Boy

Girl To Keep Sedated

Fuck The Prom Queen

Down At The Station

Nidge (Is He Really The One)

Please allow us to introduce ourselves – we're men of wealth and taste.
The Mascotte Rouge, a dream, society's nightmare, lover's escape, Arcadias legacy, Albion's new-hired sailors, the Libertines' humble admirers, breathing the virtue of Rockmusic, as well as the cult of tight skinny jeans, fancy suits, shabby leather jackets, dirty ties, filthy hats and melodies to bury in your heart and in your soul, poetry to be transformed in the sound of rock music. We're romantics, travellers along the thin lines of dawn, we're listeners, prayers for a better world, we're hopeless, we're frightened, and as well we feel anger. And what to to with it? We've tried.. tried to smoke it away, took pills to bloke it away, drink it away, went to demonstrations along with the stylish kids in the riot, to scream it away, to destroy what destroys us. But it still didn't feel right. So we tried the last thing, something our ancestors also did. Form a band, play together, put on some decent tune to alight a fire. The fire shall burn, love itself shall slumber on, and Mascotte Rouge in the middle of it – music as self-rehabilation, the gentle sense of creation, the sensation, the recreation, and as a revelation. No matter where we mourn, we will return to this smokey messed up rooms, the cellars of the big city, the underground, to play. Thats all. And to contribute to our role models, the great rock musicians and poets of britian, we've choosen the most proper language to express ourselves – fuckin' english. 

Mascottes Rouges

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