The Real Story

This is who we are:

D. Crandall – Guitar, Yelling
Bradly Blemker – Drums

Oakland, California.  2015.

Lodged like deer ticks in the south of Oakland.

There are explanations and many of them are quite entertaining in their own right.  But they are not for here or now.  But again the question is begged, and again the answer is circular.  The Lovely Savages convene at a secret bunker, or more like a hive really, tucked and tucked away again.  Things are said.  Sounds are made.  We know this city hears.

Previously on The Lovely Savages…

Here’s sort of how it happened…

The truth is there is no good explanation.  How does anybody end up deep in the woods with guitars and drums and nothing to do but rock?  Some say it was a weird juju that captured us in a vortex and dropped us on the loam like a spent virginia slim at a Sting show.  It might have been that old prospecter by the name of Virginia Slim who wielded his pick one too many times, cracked the crust and set us free.  And we all know freedom is just another word for another round of booze, but that ain’t gonna do us no good if it ain’t free.  Like the free champagne all over the parking lot at 4:00 am new years day 1974.  Take my advice, lock up your mothers before they pitch in together, buy an RV and start a “business” selling magic crepes outside the local tavern where The Lovely Savages trade noise for a debt unpaid.

…To be continued.

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