|
 Sometime
in the not too distant past "Riding Shotgun" was born. One man. One
guitar. One amplifier. Ten effects pedals. No one understood. The man's
name was Scott. He didn't care what anyone thought of him. He just wanted
to create. He heard things in his head. They needed to be released. Over
time the man began to develop better ways to communicate with the peasant
masses.
People started to take notice. A drum machine was acquired. After shows
with the likes of DISTOPHIA he embarked on an UK tour with EZT (Monitor
records, home of Oxes and Cass Mccombs). Whilst still confusing and
annoying large sections of the audience, people began to take an active
interest. In December 2004 the inaugural COWFEST was held. The man was
joined on stage with YOU PALESTINE! In a free and improvised backing role.
Great chaos and noise ensued. But at the very end the one song that
actually had been rehearsed was played. This is the legendary title track.
Afterwards it was said that this should become a permanent arrangement.
Hours later Tom has disbanded YOU PALESTINE! to concentrate on THE BEAT
POET. Rick expressed a desire to jam some more to see what would happen.
The men played. A beautiful feeling engulfed the room. The man had found
his musical soul mate.
New material flowed quickly. Tom filled in on bass whilst an appropriate
addition was found. Rick's friend Lee enquired about having a jam with
them. At first it didn't seem to work. Then it came together gloriously.
Three men together. The world is their oyster.
What do we sound like..?
Imagine Godspeed You Black Emperor! being beaten to death by Lift to
Experience, in a dank dark alleyway. Whilst Sonic Youth wax poetic on the
sidelines, Dinosaur Jr drink with the bums and Butthole Surfers distribute
free LSD among the assembled crowd of onlookers. You know exactly what we
mean. We write beautiful, delicate, fragile songs. Then we DESTROY THEM!!!
Riding Shotgun By Starlight with the Ominous Sigh...
The Story...
The man climbs aboard the stagecoach. He knows that a long and arduous
journey awaits him. The Indian raiding parties strike with greater vigour
and wilful disregard for their own safety as each day does pass.
Ammunition is scarce. The merchants want their bountiful takings deposited
at the bank. The bank is not near. The man could choose to turn around and
return home. He doesn't. He was born in this town. He may well die in this
town. As the sun sets he ventures into the wilderness. Let Mother Nature
do her worst. This is the life of men.
Visit the Riding Shotgun’ website at:
www.ridingshotgunbystarlight.bravehost.com
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