Fast paced guitar jam for all the busking fans

HEADRUSH

Your Girlfriend

Get Your Hands Off Me

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2GN93dvyV0

Keytar (I Was Busy) is out on 20 September via Trapped Animal Records and Cargo Records. Taken from album 'Oh Really, What's That Then?' out 18 October on limited edition orange vinyl, pre-order at www.trappedanimal.com.

‘Keytar (I Was Busy)’ is refreshingly perky, yet still grounded in a gritty synth-pop sound. The track is a moment of pure exhilarating pop joy hiding the darkest lyrical themes in the brightest of melodies (just like all the best pop music does). “I was busy trying to find myself, but there was no one else.” Like a slice of sunshine, the track wouldn’t be out of place on a The Pretenders album. Freeman’s voice has a magic quality. It’s incredibly toned, yet there are glimpses of fragility in there that makes the listening experience so unique.

The London-based band consists of front person Jemma Freeman, formerly of Bella Union’s Landshapes, plus bass player Mark Estall and drummer Hamilton Lee. After Freeman initially started the project solo, they found Mark and Hamilton and honed their psychedelic glam rock sound together. Hazy guitars and beguiling lyrics will guide your way through ‘Keytar (I Was Busy)’ by shining a light into a part of the psyche you may or may not know was there. Debut album ‘Oh Really, What’s That Then?’ is out on 18 October.

Press: jasmine@trappedanimal.com
everything else: joel@trappedanimal.com

Jemma Freeman and The Cosmic Something - Keytar (I Was Busy)

Written and performed by Beckwith, Morris, Tanti, Tanti

Berlin Blonde - The Rest

Berlin Blonde - Let's Do It

In a special series of video and audio readings, writers from the Spread the Word Life Writing Prize longlist 2020 read from their work. 

SR Shah reads an extract from 'Mink Lashes'. 

SR Shah is a working class queer Muslim poet and philosopher hailing from South London. They are interested in the dynamics between poetry and death, the abundance of London, and honouring migrant histories. They have had their Instagram philosophy series exhibited at VFDalston for “unfinished,” and host a quarterly literary event, “untitled.” By day, they are a makeup artist. 

Transcript: 
"I sullenly watched a small child walk across a glass plate bearing an assortment of small glass bangles. She could cut her feet up bad. She played around the ankles of aunties, sisters, grannies, and mothers as they somehow managed to superficially ignore the child. Their attentions held by food on plates and twisted necklaces resting on a cousin’s nape. But the child was never without super-vision. My mother tapped me on my shoulder gently,  

  

I had been here for three days. For a wedding, a cousin’s. I decided to surprise mum with a visit and throw a curveball at her disappointment in me. Three days ago, the vibe had been one of joyful confusion. Having used imbecilic energy for fun rather than insolence, I played a prank on her. I pretended, after her hard work in selecting fabrics and beaming with pride that her only daughter would be attending this wedding in Frankfurt with the extended family, that I was unable to make it. It was semi-true, anyway. I travelled to the wrong airport on the day of my flight and thanked every God for the chance to travel back to Hackney and smoke up for another evening of peace. I, an adult, somewhat unwittingly travelled to Stansted instead of Luton. Here’s the part that we agree on: my subconscious was in survival mode and simply did not want to go. I wasn’t let off the hook, by any means. My brother sent me money straight away to book a flight for the next day. It was a sweet compromise. I had one more evening with spliffs and red wine before travelling first class to Germany, to then travel to Berlin and stay with a lover. I was perpetually lost in a haze of musical algorithms, ambling towards a week-long performance of sobriety and marital networking. My brother and I took this opportunity to feign my resignation from attending this wedding. Oh, mother was positively livid. Her flaky, unreliable, artistic, and queer daughter has once again proven a public disappointment. Fortunately, she had taken all her anger out on the present family so that when I crept up behind her as she sliced onions, I was able to finally take nothing but joy and pride. 

  

As I stealthily rolled underneath windows and tiptoed in through the door from my brother’s car, who had showered and shaved to go to “the pharmacy for something,” I marvelled for a brief second at this vision of my mother caught off guard. This perfectly coiffed, always ready, blesser of children is natural. Her round cheeks almost gently breathed with a relaxation and her eyes shone bright. I stared at the way she cupped onions in her hand and lovingly sliced them open, as though presenting a gift or sacrifice. For a moment, all I wanted was to touch her hand. I had to wrench myself away from that moment that muffled my ears with a reluctance to bring my feet back onto the ground. Excited as I was to surprise her by proving I’m not a heartless piece of shit, I didn’t want to ever stop gazing at this sweaty, small woman with frizzy hair laughing with her sister and daughter in law. Cutting up those fucking onions."

Words © SR Shah 
#LifeWritingPrize
www.spreadtheword.org.uk

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Jaz Moan Music

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