“This lot are in a class of their own” THE TIMES “Glitteringly gloomy … thrillingly seedy … deliciously creepy” TIME OUT The Cesarians are not a pop band. They could never have been manufactured, manipulated or otherwise pre-masticated for public consumption. The Cesarians do not trade in the trite or the mundane. The Cesarians know and love music, what makes it as important as breathing, an understanding that runs deep within their bones. Their songs speak of love, loss, redemption, terror and absurdity: all of life’s riches and tragedies alchemised into the greatest live performance you could ever wish to see. The Cesarians think big, think shocking: like Ken Russell directing a Lee Bowery ballet in a Bauhaus-constructed set to a score composed by Mahler and performed by The Residents – no restraints, no compromise, no need to be like everybody else. They remind you of why you fell in love in the first place: all that drama, all that beauty, all dressed up and somewhere to go. The Cesarians are a magnificent triumph of the electric eclectic, a bunch of renegades who live on the river, tapping the source of London’s eternal energy. Following no musical map but that of their own instincts, transforming what can be done with the instruments they play, subverting all notions of genre, tradition and boundaries. Everything is to be relished within The Cesarians’ epic soundtracks, every abrupt change of chord, every tremor of brass, every violin skirmish and keyboard swell, every last tender obscenity that drops from their lips. Free yourself from the miasmas of the commonplace. Listen to them play and your dreams will come back to you” Cathi Unsworth     Justine Armatage: Piano, Violin, Writer Charlie Finke: Singer, Writer Budge Magraw: Bass Beverley Crome: French Horn, Trumpet, Voice Christine Lehmann: Violin Ed Grimshaw: Drums

Major Tom waits outside while Lou reads a White Album of Deep Purple pictures that Lucy took from the Skies when she Lost her Diamonds on a Stairway to Death in Vegas . Madness! She was supposed to visit Frankie, her Chemical Brother , but he went to Hollywood with some Porn Stars. So, she got stuck in Nick’s Cave where Earth, Wind and ‘we don’t need no water’ protected Johnny’s Cash. Unfortunately, The Fall of Rolling Stones gave away Lucy’s hiding place and she got arrested by the Police for smoking Super Grass in the back of Halen’s Van with other Sonic Youth. Luckily the Eagles (and not Them Crooked Vultures as some say) saved her from Suicide. Although she had Lost her Bad Religion, screaming ‘Faith no more’ to a Peeping Tom amongst the Black Angels of Death Metal, she finally returned to Ground Control, performing Radiohead on an Evil Super Tramp’s Notorious B.I.G. Grandmaster Flesh and getting Holy Fucked  by a Judas Priest on a Velvet Underground…

Serious?

Nah…

Kids?

Yah…

Serious Kids?

I Guess so…