“Fuck this place up!” screams Olly Simmons, and for a second I almost
feel the flinging limbs of the sweaty, testosterone-charged melee he’s trying to transport me to.
But something’s wrong, and immediately I’m uncomfortably aware of the midday
breeze coming through my bedroom window, and my fantasy wafts away like a fart
in the wind. What’s snapped me out of it is not only the realization that this
isn’t a gig: this isn’t even a rock band.
Monday, 30 July 2012
Collisions – Believe In This EP
“Fuck this place up!” screams Olly Simmons, and for a second I almost
feel the flinging limbs of the sweaty, testosterone-charged melee he’s trying to transport me to.
But something’s wrong, and immediately I’m uncomfortably aware of the midday
breeze coming through my bedroom window, and my fantasy wafts away like a fart
in the wind. What’s snapped me out of it is not only the realization that this
isn’t a gig: this isn’t even a rock band.
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