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>> Get ready for it...! This summer's memorial tribute gala at Greenbelt Festival might be the last ever performance by dfg. After so long at the top of their game, the band feel it is time to give themselves the space they need to rediscover themselves, make new goals, and pursue possible solo projects. >> This could very possibly be the last chance you have to snap up a few CDs from the dfg:shop. Click here to purchase copies of their blockbusting debut 'you are the problem, dfg is the solution' and their sophomore release, the eight-track 'Plea4Justice' EP. >> The band are ashamed to admit that they have finally succumbed to popular pressure and have signed up to myspace - you can find them here. >> The dfg technical team would like to apologise for any problems faced with trying to get in touch via the website. So cross your fingers. Pray. Fast. And maybe, just maybe, these technical issues could one day be resolved.
[ DIARY ] All of the following is true in the truest sense of the word...... it was October and it was London and it was dfg...... Jack Kerouac would have said it was a cool bop night but then Jack Kerouac was stoned most of the time and he only wrote one good book and he was a fat drunk and he spent a lot of his time hanging around with William Burroughs who is the worst writer ever to exist and he lived off mummy's maintenance cheques and he was stoned most of the time...... Holy Joes first, Brian Clive and Keith surrounding the small crowd - metaphorically, physically and intellectually...... no PA but still make enough noise to stop the whinging, disenfranchised Christians whinging about how disenfranchised they are for an hour (don't worry, there's plenty of time for that later)...... crazy Moroccan bongo player drumming out his latino rhythms somehow in time with Clive's white boy indie boy acoustic rock stylings...... Brian coming onstage like a cross between Dylan without a guitar (but who needs one anyway really when you think about it) and a godTV presenter...... Keith scaring waitresses as two middle aged Germans scrabble around on the floor removing broken glass from around his naked blood stained feet...... Belsen and so on...... more new material than you could shake a postmodern stick at (all of it good)...... beautiful Icelandic girl in tears offering gig at Roskilde...... red wine and then out into the cool bop night (cheers Jack)...... breakneck convertible Saab ride across London to Biddle Bros Bar in Hackney...... play chess instead of soundchecking...... red wine...... metaphysical battles with audience...... dfg win...... photographer vomits in front of the stage (“I was going to go to the bathroom,” he explained later, “but I thought you’d appreciate the gesture!”)...... laughter, tears, the usual...... mad pony-tailed Robin playing flute along with the Undertones (RIP John Peel) and later along with Clive’s piano after the shutters had gone down...... someone spills beer but wipes it up with a tea towel (RIP Yasser)...... Keith’s in check mate, under attack from Brian’s horses (RIP Christopher Reeve)...... songs and poetry and art and the usual but not quite...... red wine and out into the cool bop night and into some kind of illegal Turkish gambling den...... they decide to serve us tea and beer instead of shooting us...... new Rose rants for an hour about humanism...... Keith gets offer of sex...... takes a taxi instead...... ********** to
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LAST UPDATED :: 05/08/07 |