(review n pix by neil crud)
I could swear your father’s alive when you spit on the floor and screw up your eyes. I read it in a science book that you and me have chemistry. The Keys are a wonderful band, and should be a staple part on your rock ‘n’ roll 5-a-day intake. You need to seek them out and discover them along with other new life and new civilisations, you need to boldly go where no average boring-humans have gone before. Those average boring-humans (ABH) don’t support live music at this level; on the toilet-circuit (no disrespect to Telfords, it’s a synonymous term for describing venues of a certain size), no, ABH’ers get excited about seeing Muse, Coldplay, Razorlight and will happily pay £45 to see them, but can’t afford to see The Keys in Chester.
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