This is where nostalgic indie folk rock gets a dreamy twist.
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The Black Site began about 30 seconds after Bam Bam and C.M., old acquaintances from very different parts of the globe (Bam Bam a California transplant and C.M. a Yorkshire native), ran into each other at a Thurston Moore gig that was on that night exploding from a roadhouse in East London. 

C.M. was glad to see Bam Bam, at the time mostly because it was the end of the month and he thought he might be able to have lend of a couple of quid for another pint, only to discover she was very much hoping for the same thing. So, instead, the two of them walked soberly down the street together basking in the ear-ringing afterglow of the almighty distortion king. C.M. told Bam Bam he liked her white leather shoes, she read him a couple of lines from a Ted Hughes poem she’d found, and together they re-discovered the thread of their old bond over hammed-up Scott Walker impersonations and story-telling competitions in the subject of childhood mischief. A couple of footsteps further and they decided they should write some songs together. 

H came over from his native Switzerland to record the band’s first demos, bringing with him a suitcase half full of fancy Russian mics and drum gadgetry and half with limited edition whisky and fine Winstons. Bam Bam and CM quickly decided he was a genius and cancelled his return flight. 

The rest is unwritten. But whatever happens next, it’s bound to involve a lot of language, vast amounts of noise, and at least one overly exaggerated line from ‘Montague Terrace.’

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