Clear cassette tape, full colour digitally printed j-card.

There are only a few good answers to the question:

Who Speaks When We Collaborate? More to the point: Who Collaborates to Speak of WE? Its such an empty, nasty word.

And yet, this is one. Through solid, unpretentious mystery. Whistles and humms passed around behind the teachers back. Don’t puncture it. A three-way algorithm-breaking SIDE A with three bands - two Glasgow-based and one Edinburgh-based - that have very little online presence, playing together for a fully fused SIDE B. Heraldry to chimera through improvisation.

There are children doing musical bumps, bruising on the concrete with every start-STOP. There is a strong whiff of sun cream floating above the bandstand. Medieval flags flutter alongside hi-vis security jackets. In the distance, a fortune telling goat is nodding wisely at a series of tarot cards, £1 a pop: he is hot and bothered and needs a break.

Three dimensional descriptive tips: Drunken Sea Shanties for a Dry Summer (Beefheart at the Toby Carvery?); someone saying ‘Fire Engines’ in a loud, windy park; over-large quilted waistcoats; “When was the last time you saw a group of middle aged women on a stage together playing music?” (The Raincoats at ATP over 2 years ago. But these lot are youuunnggg); the warm joy that seems to breathe through anything recorded at the Green Door Studio; the radical democracy of a single mic in a small room.

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