Clam. Bam. Thankyou. Hwuh. These four words begin and end every
Clam concert, every practise, every collective Clam carajillo
and drinking expedition. Particularly Clam Rock. Clam is still
a baby, but has already split into:
Clam (1): Acoustic,
utterly passionate. The original fruity Clam taste, from Piaf
to Propellerheads with originals about fish, cheese, bananas,
The Dude and dogs.
Clam Rock: Need
we say more? Do you think Bruce rocks? Jo doesn't. Snot Battered
Snot Batttered Clam:
Vicious takeover of a fading soul band, this revivified and
invigoarated goat is rounded out by the enormous Nigel, the
aggressive Andy, dressage Danilo, frank Frank, jiving Julian
and Csippet the Dog. An angry brass section led by the truly
fucked off Rachel deliver hot pumping funk action.
she's absolutely fuckin fantastic, she sings in French, she talks to
bottles (she believes that they send out valuable positive attitude),
she has correct posture, headbands to match every mood, and she plays,
guitar, piano, accordion, djembe, harmonica, bass, clam, tambourine,
egg, the fool.
She was born in Yorkshire, but has an identity crisis
having graced France with her presence for seven of the best years of
anyone's possible life. She is an artiste, a chanteuse, has sink problems
and a beautiful flat decorated in discarded furniture.
The man with the finest jumper collection known to mankind and a manicure
to match is a star. What can't he do? Bastard! Want flamenco, jazz,
rock, cheese, pork? Talk to the long-haired Aussie in the dress.
Hailing from Geelong (white
wings over blue water near Melbourne, in case you're wondering), he's
jammed with the best of them down under and up over, and across a
bit in Budapest. Best known for his death-defying guitar skills, he
has more than a slight penchant for a bit of stick work and fiddling.
Need we say it again, the man is a star. And a tit.
She is an ocean of rock. She washes up with ungodly hangovers, and
tunes a piano like she scrambles eggs. She is Clarence Clemens with
more hair, and has an unholy fascination with the Boss, Queen and
Every third day is a bad hair
day, every second class is slept through and she doesn't have enough
clean clothes. She still manages to show off in cardigans and dangerous
boots. She has a black belt in karate, loves children, soft toys and
beer. She is the most dangerous member of Clam.