4 hand picked from a bunch of indie pop wannabes, their disillusioned road crew and loyal fan base by a member of the music industry elite: 7 name changes, a £10,000 expense account & a failed press junket to the far east later, the arse falls out of the music industry. With the sound of a bullet ricochetting off their ex-manager’s skull still fresh in the ears of a traumatised typing pool the unnamed band repaired to the less fashionable end of London to choose the name Local Girls & rip off the best bits of the B52s, Ramones & Adam’s Original Ants. You know the score, keep it fashionable & obscure. Potential liars. The first release is a 7” Mini Album; 6 songs at 33rpm - 99p in exchange for your ears and the space in between. 99p. Yes. 99p. Get you hooked on the cheap stuff then jack up the price. It’s back-alley capitalism at it’s very worst - get over it. I didn’t invent the music industry, so blame someone else. All I can do is assure you is that none of the profits from this record will go towards making any more goddamn Coldplay records. Fuck you Parlaphone, you had your chance.
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