A project to collect all 126 of Shakespeare's Fair Youth Sonnets as read by LGBTQ people, to be exhibited alongside videos of contributors at Sutton House, a National Trust property in Hackney, for LGBT History Month, February 2015.

PLUR RECORDS it's a new record label, created by independent artists, for independent artists! So if you are an independent artist, DJ, producer or a band and you need help to release and distribute your music on-line, you are in the right place!

We know how hard it is to get started in the music business, that's why we're offering our help and knowledge to new artists like you!

So, this is what we offer:

- Release and digitally distribute your EDM tracks on BeatPort, iTunes, Traxsourse, Amazon, Spotify, Deezer, Shazam, and more! Also video streaming services,
with no upfront costs and fair commission fees.

- We can also do your Music Publishing administration! This means we can collect the royalties you're missing out. Your compositions generate songwriter royalties when they're downloaded and streamed. Distribution services alone can't get this money for you, that's why we can get you a publishing deal! Ask us how!

- We’ll help you collect your money from YouTube

It's very easy, just send us your demo and wait for us to contact you!

Jonny Garner – Guitar
Simon Harding - Drums
Luke Joyce - Vocals
Kerry Lambert – Bass

BIO:
The box? fiN think way outside it. In times of warfare and recession they sing of celebrating
life, remembering the good times, appreciating what you have and not letting the detritus of
modern life drag you down. In an age of endless band reunions and formulaic era revivals,
they’re taking the base elements of alternative rock and moulding something unexpected and
innovative out of it. In an era of perpetual social networking, downloading and gig spam,
they’re planning to self-release their debut album on a series of limited-edition 7” vinyls
adorned with pictures of famous British inventors, downloads available only via codes that
come with the record.
“There are no rules,” says suave and charismatic singer Luke Joyce, “throw away the
rulebook. You want to aim as high as you can, and that’s what we’re gonna do. If you aim
at ‘impossible’ you’re always going to end up better than if you just aim for somewhere
logical.”
The Box, though? FiN thought, played, slept and drank inside it. Because The Box was
what they called the abandoned caretaker’s house on some old school grounds in Surrey
where local schoolmates-turned-twentysomething guitar pop visionaries Luke (the Nirvana,
Pumpkins, Cure and REM-loving outcast and hopeless romantic with a few rudimentary
songs under his belt and a paranoia-inducing drug habit firmly in his past), guitarist Jonny
Garner (the popular yet introverted perfectionist, nicknamed Bubble because “even though
he loves music, he doesn’t listen to music”), their new bassist Kerry Lambert (the hedonistic
cider freak rebelling against his religious upbringing) and drummer Simon Harding (the surfer
dude with a head for business) convened in November 2008 to concentrate on leaving behind
their grunge covers band roots, utilising their childhood roots in Motown, The Beatles, Led
Zep and Nirvana and channelling their creative forces for the reinvention of alt.rock.
“We called it The Box Sessions,” Luke explains, “because there was this abandoned house we
went to and it was shaped like a box, it was tiny. It was abandoned for so long it was damp
in there, but we went in for three weeks to knuckle down and focus on writing some songs
for the record. We’d decided to take it really seriously. There was so much damp on the
walls that we built tents in the rooms upstairs. We had blow up beds and slept in there, drank
beer downstairs. We converted downstairs into a little rehearsal and recording studio, it was
brilliant. It was a really good time for the band, we really learnt about who we were in there.
We found our sound, found out what we wanted to do and went for it.”
It was during The Box sessions, demoing intently on perfectionist Jonny’s laptop, that
fiN’s revolutionary approach to guitar rock was forged: adopting the shape-shifting and
exploratory attitudes of Animal Collective, Yeasayer, Foster The People and Cage The
Elephant, but with one foot planted firmly in sonic soundscapes set for stadiums. The sessions
produced a handful of tracks – most notably an as-yet-untitled instrumental piece that builds
from a Radiohead-style atmospheric opening to a volcanic eruption of Foo Fighters frenzy,
and ‘Eve’. “It’s about losing you virginity,” Luke explains. “It’s quite a dark song. Losing my
virginity was the most awkward fucking experience of my life. That’s my experience, really
bungly, really uncomfortable afterwards…”
Kerry: “It’s about the seedy side of it, it’s not like Green Day going ‘hyuk, I had sex for the
first time!’. It’s a dark take on it.”
Over the start of 2009 further songs emerged – the energised riot rock of ‘23’, the masterful
ballroom balladry of ‘Everybody Dies Alone’. fiN were becoming a brilliantly esoteric,
genre-busting band and, eager to gauge reaction to their exciting new sounds, they flew to
SXSW in March 2009 and blew minds and rock’n’roll gaskets aplenty.
“It was life-changing,” says Luke. “We just plugged into amps out there and got on with it. It
taught us not to be so protective.”
“We played the gig of our lives,” adds Kerry, before explaining how the trip was his final
hedonistic blow-out before undergoing his own personal Strongbow rehab. “That was the end
of it. It was the last night of South By and Cage The Elephant gave me my last cider. I forgot
the rule that you have to close your curtain on the tour bus or you’re fair game. I woke up
with willies drawn all over me and a shoe down my boxer shorts.”
“He took half a Xanax before he went to bed because he was having trouble sleeping and
because of that the alcohol stayed in him,” Luke adds. “He woke up more drunk than he was
the night before, so he fell backwards out of the bus and he was hugging us all and he stank.”
Hardly ‘Exile On Main Street’ admittedly, but fiN had had their first taste of rock’n’roll and
it fizzed on their tongues. Back home, for the next two years they knuckled down to writing
and recording their debut album in Cream Studios, the Cato complex in Wandsworth (where
they’re now based) and their own flats, working slowly, with an intricate perfectionism.
“We wanted to write an album ourselves,” Luke explains, “do it DIY and have that freedom
to express ourselves. Then see what happens. It came out in dribs and drabs. It started out
quite heavy but we didn’t want to be a really heavy band. We wanted to be a band that wasn’t
afraid to write pop songs as well as still have the rock element.”
With songs originating from Luke before Jon would “hash out all the crap” and the rest of
the band would “get a vibe”, fiN’s debut grew into a tight, focussed yet boundlessly creative
record. Modern influences gradually crept into the mix – MGMT, Yeasayer, the prevalent
wave of New Cure electro – and the national and global gloom drove them to want to make
an uplifting Friday night album as a shot in the arm for a broken society.
“I really wanted to capture the sense of celebration,” says Luke, “especially with everything
going on with the recession and everyone being a bit pissed off and unhappy. We wanted to
celebrate over adversity and get people having fun, have a good time.”
fiN’s music urges you to grab life by the horns, just as the band do with music. Theirs are
songs of hope in times of financial hardship, of carrying brightness into what seems such a
bleak future. ‘23’ is a message to Luke’s recently-redundant dad to stop being pessimistic and
yearning for his youth. The afrobeat-tinged ‘The Truth Lies In Honesty’ merges its Vampire
Weekend and Yeasayer upstrokes with an urge to remould yourself as a new person after
personal loss. And the full-on Brand New/Biffy Clyro bellow (with a hint of dEUS chanting)
of ‘Life Is Wasted On The Living’ is an attack on blank consumerism. “’Things’ are so
important now, ‘things’ you hold in your hand or buy. The song’s saying don’t think of it like
that, enjoy your life, embrace it.”
If the MGMT-inspired ‘It Changes Everything’ follows a similar theme of blowing bubbles in
the face of hardship, there are more downbeat moments too. ‘Where Are You Now’ is a grief-
stricken piano ballad that took the entire writing and recording period to get right, and ‘Lucky
You’ brings a Muse emotirock urgency and ambition to a song that’s envious of the shut-
down brain.
“It’s a song about people that are ignorant,” says Luke. “Ignorance is bliss they say, and it
goes ‘you don’t know yourself, lucky you’, in the sense that being like that you’ve got no
cares in the world. I’d rather be like that than have all this shit that goes on in my head every
day. I’d rather be ignorant and live a blissful life. I wish I could be that guy who gets married,
has kids and gets a normal job and is content with being like that. I think that’s amazing, I
can’t do it, I’m not programmed that way. I’ve got all the bad stuff you get, like my fear of
death and my ridiculous OCD. I have a dark side but I hide it.”
Luke’s dark side will no doubt rear its head on album two, for which he’s already written
forty song sketches, but in the meantime, savour their immaculate debut - mixed by Muse
and Foo Fighters impresario Adrian Bushby after the band sent a track to him on a whim -
and its inventor-festooned 7” release caper. There’ll be no downloads for sale or record deals
sought – fans will simply collect the vinyls either at gigs or in record shops and you get a
download code allowing them access to the MP3s as well as videos for every song and behind
the scenes footage. It’s a cool, creative way to purchase a cool, creative album from a band
that represents the next generation of indie, a bona fide evolution that finally sees British
guitar rock stop dragging its knuckles and start punching at the stars.
“We’re the heaviest indie band around,” says Luke. “We’re very diverse. It’s light and shade
but we’re not afraid of pop music or writing curveballs.”
fiN: don’t box them in.

PLUR RECORDS is a digital record label created by independent artists, for independent artists! So if you are an independent artist, DJ, producer or a band and you need help to release and distribute your music on-line, you are in the right place!

We know how hard it is to get started in the music business, that's why we're offering our help and knowledge to new artists like you!

So, this is what we offer:

- Release and digitally distribute your EDM tracks on BeatPort, iTunes, Traxsourse, Amazon, Spotify, Deezer, Shazam, and more! Also video streaming services,
with no upfront costs and fair commission fees.

- We can also do your Music Publishing administration! This means we can collect the royalties you're missing out. Your compositions generate songwriter royalties when they're downloaded and streamed. Distribution services alone can't get this money for you, that's why we can get you a publishing deal! Ask us how!

- We’ll help you collect your money from YouTube

It's very easy, just send us your demo and wait for us to contact you!

Born from a dying star while Danish death metal was subtly playing in the background, 4 amazing guys decided enough was enough when they found out that their favourite pizza topping was going to be eradicated from the cosmos. Together they banded as one to try and collect enough funds for the school county fair municipal groundhog day parade that was gonna be hosted before Christmas.

In the club, I was able to create and perform anything I wanted. Where was copyright in that whole picture? Well... the club paid royalties with a blanket policy. But some of the songs I played in the club were white labels, some were small independent, many were UK imports! So how did copyright money pay them? I don't really know.

Every time a song is played on the radio, artists get paid. Every time a song is played on Pandora, artists get paid. Every time a song is played in a TV commercial, artists get paid. But,on Soundcloud, no money is collected and no artist gets paid. 

Why can't I put my mixes on Soundcloud? Well, it's illegal. Soundcloud doesn't collect any money from anyone for royalties for artists. But they have an elaborate system in place to process copyright infringement and shut down people posting copyrighted songs.

Record labels have been losing money since post 80's. They sue copyright infringers to make up for the money they think they are losing to free streaming or downloading or whatever new technology is playing their music. 

"It doesn't seem fair. It stifles creativity," is the rebuttal. The system in place keeps popular music under control of the major record labels. Big labels know the rules and use the rules to keep themselves in power. It doesn't matter to us, it's the law. You can't break the law. You will be sued or go to jail. It's the law. You have to play by the rules. You want to change the rules. But to change the rules takes time and money. Which we don't have enough of. So we must play by the rules. It's the law... until it isn't.

Choose your battles! I recommend we play by the rules until we have a chance to change them. Pursue the Creative Commons licencing option. Push artists to use different licencing options, like, 'limited not-for-commercial' and 'limited not-for-commercial derivative works' which would allow creative expression in today's: instant publish, instant hit, instant distribution model.

This is why you won't hear my DJ mixes online. But you can still hear them at my house!

I love house music.
Rod the Bod is  a Legendary nightclub DJ, from his early career spinning records at Seattle bar, Tugs Belmont, in the early 90's and various gigs including Lemon Twist for Tasty Shows.  It was once said that, "we can't have a successful Saturday night while you are spinning."  
An opportunity presented itself in 1996 for Rod to be entertainment director at a Portland mega-nightclub, Panorama/Boxes/Brig. He became a big fish in a small pool but maintained the #1 club until 2001.  
Moved to Denver in 2006.  :)

My full name is Julie Maria Staines.
 
I was born in The London Hospital in Whitechapel on the 13th September 1972 and was brought up in Chadwell Heath in Essex with my Mum and Dad and sister Anne who was six years older than me and wouldn't let me in her room very often.   
My mother, Kathleen, was a fairly strict Catholic so Anne and I did the whole Church on Sunday thing, which was cool because I was massively in love with Josef Costa who was an altar boy and we both went to religious schools: St.Bede’s Primary and Canon Palmer Secondary. As long as I was somewhere near Joe I didn't care.
 
My father, a proper East-end boy was in the motor industry by day and the jazz scene - when us kids were asleep in bed - by night and that's probably where it all began for me. I loved everything about going to gigs with my Dad (when I was occasionally allowed). 
The smell of the beer and the cigarette smoke.  The men all dressed up on Sunday lunchtime in bow ties and suits and the ladies looking glamorous. The complimentary roll mops and roast spuds on the bar. The mic stands, the drum kit, the free drinks. The fact  that everyone in that pub knew my Dad by his first name and he was the star whose picture you could see displayed behind the bar.
 
I guess I knew right then that this is what I wanted for myself. Something about the whole thing truly grabbed me and I was hooked.
 
My Mother, died tragically  when I was only eleven and by now Anne was out working and staying at boyfriends’ houses. This did mean one good thing though: I had my Dad to myself.

Every Sunday we would cruise around London in his Mustang with the top down listening to Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald and Bing Crosby and it was always the words he made me listen to.  So there it is, set in stone forevermore: my earliest memory of being educated in music and of learning to appreciate the way great singers phrase and tell a story through song. A passion for lyrics was born.

 
Most of the kids in my school left as early as they could and if you lived that close to London you ended up working in the City. So I joined the masses of folk who travel on the underground everyday and spent a lot of life stuck in tunnels trying to read whoever was sitting next to me's newspaper, without them noticing. But of course they always did.

It was around this time that my Dad  had remarried and though I no longer had him to myself  it didn't matter because they gave me a beautiful baby brother who they called Jake, named after Jake's Burgers in Seven Kings. Six years after that a second beautiful boy arrived called Robert and the small family grew and four became six.
 
I worked in a firm of Solicitors in Great Portland Street in the West End as an office junior and generally messed about, smoking in cupboards and laughing all day with a classic girl, Julie who thought I was hilarious, which is handy when you're a bit of a joker like me. We ate curry just about every lunchtime which cost us all of a pound in the Indian Y.M.C.A. and drank tea and stole biscuits for the rest of the time. Work? Not really that much.
 
Needless to say apart from the laughs my heart wasn't truly in it so I legged it out of the 9-5 thing after meeting a German producer who I began a collaboration with. He often nagged me about my constant singing out of tune and made me sing into a guitar tuner to practise. I soon realized that this was not the Lennon/McCartney partnership I was looking for and I joined an all girl rock band called 'Dearjon'.
 
I gained all my experience from that band and had an absolute blast. What a fantastically crazy ride to work with chicks that get to share everything:  bras, lipstick, taste in men, food, beds, cars, fights, pillows, sandwiches, socks, the stage. Mums - of which there were quite a few - wanted to adopt me. Spiritual beliefs, music, books, records,  jumpers, planes, record deals and hot grub before rehearsals from the bass player, Lid's Italian parents who had a chippy in Kinson. 
 
Liddy didn't drive back then but she had no problems getting the rest of us to pick her up before gigs because we all knew that whoever got there first got the pickled wally and hot chips. What a result!
 
We gigged in just about every town in this country for a pittance which we never even saw because the sound guy got that. We toured, we made records, we signed deals, we did T.V. shows. We travelled to different countries, we had fab clothes, we played at Wembley, we did lots of radio roadshows, we worked harder than any other band I've ever known and we were mates. BUT............It wasn't for me. 
 
The band split. Sort of. Me and the Drummer, Tina left and the rest of them went to South Africa taking Lidia with them. She soon came back though and landed herself the job of bass player in Ezio, an outstanding and amazing band, so no complaints from Lid. Meanwhile I hooked up with a local producer Steve Ennever and we wrote a bunch of songs, did some cool gigs - with the help of some mates - and signed a huge recording contract in New York with Columbia Records.
 
Jon Leshay, who now manages Mandy Moore and various other artists, was the man who mentored me throughout. He lent me money he almost certainly never saw again, took me to great restaurants, introduced me to some pretty fantastic people, inspired me to write music when I didn't want to. Believed in me, got my songs used in films and TV, made his home my home every time I was over there and his family made me welcome around their dining table too many times to mention.
Twelve years on and I still send him everything I write because if Jon doesn't like it I know that nobody else will either. He has that wonderful gift which can sniff out the talent and spot a hook and a melody within the first few seconds of hearing it. 

Because I knew so many industry people over there in America I spent a year there on and off. I never had a green card so I had to keep coming back which I never wanted to do. Somehow I still feel that a little piece of me has been left over there under a tree or in a diner somewhere and I could see myself going back one day to live.

British Racing Green was recorded at Sunset Sound and Ocean Way Studios in LA and was mixed in New York. I don’t know if I liked going over there to work or to shop because that was often just as thrilling. (I’m not really into fashion at all but the clothes were cheaper and generally cooler and the make-up in Bloomingdales, well don’t even get me started on that.)

I would come back with bag loads of stuff.

Anyway, Mike Elizondo, producer and co-writer for Eminem and Dr.Dre, was our bass player, Brian McCloud was the drummer and Lyle Workman the guitarist and these guys were some of the best session musicians in the world and between them have worked on so many massive records. I was a very lucky little cockney.

We stayed in a complex in LA built for actors, musicians, film-makers and the like while they’re making movies and albums, so if I wasn’t in the studio, I was sat around the pool with all the stars of tomorrow. Life was tough back then.

The record took three months to make and the Americans seemed to like us Brits.  I felt at home. I remember Green Day spent a fair amount of time in our studio lounge because of all the English tea I made. That was before they trashed their own studio and Tori Amos gave me some very good advice about signing the deal when we met at The Four Seasons. I played her some piano and needless to say she quickly left.

I became friends with some glorious songwriters and musicians and had the time of my life. Was privileged to see some amazing live shows: David Bowie at the Amphitheatre in LA (although we had to leave early because the strobes were literally doing my epileptic mate’s head in) , Johnny Cash at The House Of Blues, Ricki Lee Jones in New York, Michael Stipe - who thought he had been to a party with me earlier that week - Madonna in a diner and I would also try to spy on Brad Pitt who lived down the road from Jon. I often saw Clint Eastwood, who was producing a record in the studio next to ours, and LOVED hearing all the rock and roll stories from the guys we were around.

So, when my album was never released and I had to come back to England with a big thump and had to try to make some money, it was a bit of a blow to say the least and I spent several years sulking.

I stopped writing songs and had my only son, Sid.

Having another mouth to feed put even more pressure on Sid’s father and I to keep money coming in and he was only doing little bits of supply work because he couldn’t get a permanent teaching job in Bournemouth. We were more broke than ever before so I got in touch with a local agent who said she could get me plenty of work in hotels in Bournemouth but that I would need a pianist. She gave me the telephone number of two piano players in the area.

One was a man who, when we spoke on the phone, didn’t exactly float my boat and the other was Esther. 
She answered the phone call and I said ‘ Hi, Michelle gave me your number, I’m looking to put a trio together to go out and get some work, I’m really skint. How old are you?’
She replied 

‘Twelve.’

And that was that! She was the one for me.

We met up a day or two later in my flat to have a kind of run through, to audition each-other sort of thing. She brought her Triton Korg Keyboard along and we began.
 ‘Do you know Ironic by Alanis?’ I asked

 ‘No’ she said.

Do you know, ‘Everyday Is A Winding Road, By Sheryl Crow?’

‘No,’  she said. And that’s how it went on until she said.....

‘Do you know the theme tune to Fame?’ I knew I was in trouble as she thrashed out the tune  so loud she woke the baby who was then only a few months old. 
I sang along but my God we sounded diabolical!

It was the worst audition in history and musically we were chalk and cheese. 
She hated every record in my collection and I wasn’t over keen on hers BUT somehow we both knew that we had to work together and not in hotels but we just had to work together.

We did go out as a duo doing loads of covers and sometimes we enjoyed it and other times we hated it. Sometimes we would literally cry before gigs because one of us wouldn’t want to go in and we’d turn the car around never to be seen again.

Until one day Steve Ennever asked me if I wanted his old piano, the one that used to be resident in Arnie’s Shack Studio, and because I wanted Sid to have piano lessons at some stage we made arrangements to collect it. 

One evening Esther came around to visit. She had been studying song writing at the Brighton Institute Of Music. She had moved to Brighton and I wasn’t seeing much of her at that time. We cracked open a bottle of wine, sat at the piano - having never written a song together before - and wrote ‘Superheroes’.

The start of another unique relationship took shape and Esther and I started writing permanently. It wasn’t easy finding time in between work  and motherhood but where ever possible we would squeeze in a few hours here and there. In time Esther and I had co-written a whole catalogue of songs and formed a solid and wonderful friendship for life.

She even comes on holiday with us because she can’t bear to miss out on anything fun that I’m doing.

With the help of Alan ’Big Al’ Hill at Sonic Studios in Poole our demos have been recorded and ready to be played to the world. 

So if Leona Lewis fancies recording one, can someone please let us know or if Bruce Willis is looking for a theme tune to the next big movie or if you want to see us play on your stage then get in touch. We write them, we play them, we love them. We do whatever comes next.

It’s been a tough, fun,  crazy, hard and relentless journey at times but we’re ready and up for arriving at our next destination!





 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


Everybody knows that the top drawer is where all the best secrets are kept safe. Perhaps Vancouver’s best kept secret is a rock 'n' roll band known as The Top Drawers. Richly steeped in 1960s Brit-rock flavour, The Top Drawers are intent on reviving the joy, the energy, and the fun of rock ‘n’ roll.  



The Top Drawers have collected the adoration of music-scenesters and would-be sock-hoppers everywhere they’ve played. Perhaps it’s because their obvious homage to 1960s rock music comes very naturally. The band’s lead singer, Eric Lefebvre, has toured as the drummer for Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee, Terry Sylvester of The Hollies. It also doesn’t hurt that their first album was mixed by Canadian audio-guru/Odds-alumnus, Steven Drake. The resulting vibe is so sincere that it prompted The Grapes of Wrath's Kevin Kane to say, "If they had mixed the record in mono, pressed it onto vinyl, and pre-scuffed and scratched the records, they could have passed 'You're So Fine' off as a super-rare, obscure treasure of the mid-60s (and at collector prices!). They'd no doubt fool a lot of people."



The Top Drawers have toured all over Western Canada, performed at festivals, and had their song "Crazy Day" featured in the Haylie Duff movie, "Fear Island." The band’s live shows have become exuberant events characterized by call-and-answer choruses, handclaps, dancing, and barrages of lead guitar. It is unapologetically rock ‘n’ roll in its purest form.

DeSoto Taxi is not a band and not even an artist or an author, DeSoto Taxi is a sort of spiritual “vehicle” to travel through the wonders and miseries of humanity, in the inspiring splendor of natural and urban landscapes. The trip started in 1983 and since then, many artists have come and gone on board, the only one that remained on the driving seat from the first day until now is David Bournham, a polyhedric artist and musician, author of music and lyrics. 
“I am immensely grateful to everyone who has accompanied me for a stretch of road in these years: thanks to them all, DeSoto Taxi arrived up to here and is ready to approach new paths and chase new dreams. What we are is the result of subsequent layers made of the randomness of the events of life and the dreams we cherish. And the meaning of our existence is to believe in the possibility that our vision is translated into a real fact. This requires time, effort, and awareness. But it all starts with a dream. Reality offers us the context, the tools, and the experience, the creative part is within us and begins to collect it's own tools the very moment we are born. For this reason, I believe that every moment of our life has a meaning and a profound  influence on our sensitivity, our taste and our ability to understand and relate to the world.”
At the beginning of the 80s, while he was looking for a musical identity that had to be original and fulfilling his ambitions and his taste, he came across the musicality and boundless talent of who he still considers the most creative bass player to have gone through the contemporary music scene: Andonis Michaelides, aka Mick Karn. He bought a fretless bass and began to study, with the new awareness that it was possible to conjugate the idea of contemporary rock with the suggestions, the sounds and the modalities of different musical cultures, away from the cliches of the western tradition.
“In those years it was the time of the "New Romantics", the success was for bands like Duran Duran, Spandau Ballet or Culture Club: bizarre hairstyles, elegant clothes and lots of electronics: my ambition was (and in many ways maybe still it is) to distil the formal elegance of a great artist like Brian Ferry and Roxy Music, with the exotic timbre of Japan (whose creative potentials exploded a little later with the incredible solo experiences of David Sylvian and Mick Karn). Above all, the light and the charisma of David Bowie, who for me will always remain a beacon and an unreachable source of inspiration.”
Today you can find in the songs of DeSoto Taxi an intimate, natural charm that comes from musicians totally at ease with other, sharing a deep passion and involvement in the musical trip, playing with ease and elegance. Here and there you can breathe some jazzy atmosphere: many arrangements and instrumentation were worked out during recording according to the feel of the individuals and the mood of the moment.
“I referred to this long trip as a journey in my heart and I have been envisioning music as an ethereal and concrete symbol at the same time, of the freedom to dream. Do not be afraid to start and get rid of the encrustations that limit your ability to dream: it is never too late to be what you might have been and it is not fair that the flow of events, the habits and the sense of "duty" steal meaning from your existence. Sooner or later it may happen that you feel the need to leave. When it will happen, you should know that there will always be a DeSoto Taxi down in the street  waiting for you with the engine on.”

Everett Whitney is following