Diesel, Pittsburgh
earken, now, my lords and ladies, to the story I shall tell, of bold adventures, heroic exploit, and a Quest Beyond the Sea. The tale concerns four knights errant, each of different virtues, each from different woods hewn, each as pure of heart as the sacred saints, and as brave and bold as holy lions.
First, Matthew, son of Hales the Military Accountant, captain of our happy brigade, then David, son of Price the Travelling Industrial Salesman, then James, son of Copperthwaite the Geographer, and finally myself, your chronicler, Benjamin, brother of Sir Matthew, the last and the least of all the Hales Clan.
We sail aboard the good ship Aqualung, a doughty vessel. She's old but she's seaworthy, and when the wind's behind her she can give even a Spanish Corvette a run for her money. We're headed to the New World to preach the Good News of melodic melancholy spacerock among the Heathens, in the sure and certain hope of Converting each new supplicant into album sales for our new disc Memory Man, available now! Aside us, in their peasant robes, tread our trusty squires, Adam of the Ears, son of Bell the Policeman and Claire de la Telephone Cellulaire, son of Rosenbaum the Documenter, both of sworn fealty to our Queen and both riven with poxes of the most disgusting nature.
We set forth on the fourteenth day of the fourth month in the year of our lord 2007, when the auspices were favourable and the flights were available. Our strategy: Music! Our weapons divers: clavichord, lute, tambors of all sizes, and the bass lute, sackbutt and hautboy (optional). Our hearts: Bursting with song! Our minds: Ravaged as sacked Persepolis, burning 'neath the feet of Alexander. Our eyes: Fixed firm and unwavering 'pon the ultimate prize. Never before has the world seen such a band. My lords, my ladies, I commend to you the story of Aqualung's headlining tour of the USA, March-April 2007!
Huzzah!
