Our new album!  

Thanks to the hundreds of beautiful, kind and probably very sexy people that donated to our Indiegogo campaign, we have hit the studio and cooked up a brand new album. It is the biggest, best and most marvellous thing that we have ever done, and we can't wait for you to hear it. Producer/Keyboard Maestro Joe is now mixing it up in his massive sparkly pop cauldron, and we will be hurling it at you as soon as we can. EXCITEMENT!!!

Here is a photo of two dogs dancing. They LOVE the songs. 

Our new EP is OUT! It's OUT!! 


Darlings, the new EP, Kiss The Misfits, is now available in both physical and digital versions from our Bandcamp page HERE. We love it, and we hope you do too.

All proceeds are going straight towards recording a BRAND NEW ALBUM! So for just five pounds (or more if you like) you can keep this ridiculous adventure rocketing onwards. We love you. xx

Kiss The Misfits is ALIVE!!! 

Darlings! Our new single Kiss The Misfits has now been premiered on Gigwise. Turn everything up as load as it'll go, then click HERE

The video will follow in a few days. Excitement! 

It's the first single from the EP of the same name, which will be out on November 20th. 

We hope you like it. 


Tour Diary - Day Nine 

Warrington – Jane & John’s House
And so the timid sun dawned on my last day of the tour. Last? Yes. Whilst we had a further two shows in Wrexham and Bury lined up in the tour diary, I had to bow out as life is rarely as obedient of our plans as we would like. I’m sure I shall go into detail at a later date once our hearts have stopped hammering like fucking road drills, but suffice to say a member of my immediate family was taken very very ill on a Greek island and I had to down tools and fly out the next day. Hello from Greece. I am staggeringly, overwhelmingly relieved to say that everything is fine, they are getting better by the day and we shall be coming home next week. But this mad rush to the airport means that Louis will finish the tour solo, perhaps with the odd special guest in my place. The hosts who had been expecting the two of us have been singularly lovely and understanding of the situation, and to them I am truly grateful. We shall return and blast your heads off with rock as soon as we possibly can. 
And now that things are looking up over here I feel sufficiently calm enough to report on the truly wonderful day out we had in Warrington.
We knew this one was going to be a biggie, as our host Jane had been sending delighted emails informing us of plans and predicted guestlists. And boy, was she right. Jane, John, their son Paul and the rest of their delightful extended family had erected their own mini-festival in their huge back garden. Louis and I pulled up and wandered into a potted Glasto, a bonsai Bestival, a Diet Download. There was a garden stage, helpfully demarcated with crowd barriers, a food stand serving up externally-catered wonders, a bar, masses of lawn chairs and a giant hammock. Not to mention the huge amount of home-made posters featuring the two of us. They had even made their own Louis Barabbas/Felix Hagan festival wristbands.

One could be forgiven for getting a little bit smug about things like this.  

We were treated to a guided tour of the various memorabilia they as a family had accrued over a lifetime of music fandom. Signed posters, setlists and photos sat on the walls amongst even more prestigious items. Guitars signed by everyone from Newton Faulkner to our old pal Beans on Toast (the man who sewed the seeds of our career by booking us at the Monarch and inviting Frank Turner) grinned encouragingly down at us, and we added our own signatures, messages and drawings to their collection with tremendous pleasure.
We were very early, and we used the time in the best possible way by having a lovely long chat in the garden with our new friends. Jane and John were, like several others on this tour, amongst the audience at our Kendal Calling show last year. We’d had an enormous crowd thanks to the twin blessings of A) pissing rain outside the tent, and B) a command issued to the crowd by Frank during his headline set the day before. So we reminisced fondly about our various encounters then and since.
Soon the guests began arriving, and as predicted the crowd was our biggest of the tour by some considerable margin. So far on the tour we’d been able to get away with no amplification whatsoever, as our crowds have been usually crammed into various front rooms. However this time we knew we had to bring the thunder, and our neglected PA system was dragged from its slumber in the boot and put to work entertaining the fifty-ish strong mass. Once again the audience spanned the generations, and our conversations ranged from favourite obscure 80’s glam punk bands to the crushing woes of UCAS forms and favourite student drinking dens.
Food was served up eventually. What can only be described as a giant cauldron of Hot Pot was manoeuvred into play by hundreds of local workmen. We got stuck in, and I ate so damn much of the lovely stuff that I had to go and lie in the massive hammock for a while afterwards to curse my stupid greedy mouth and work up the courage to perform.

The boy who ate too many potatoes. 

We returned to our previous form for this one, and Louis took the stage first in front of the sea of delighted faces. He went unplugged, the better to use every inch of the garden as he leapt, ran and barked his way through his ever-wonderful set. I now haven’t heard him play for two days, and I miss it so much. We simply must do more.

They say his vision is based on movement. They were lucky to escape with their lives 

After a brief break I strode to the microphone and cracked into my set. As the setting was so grand and the amps up so loud I opted for a set of mainly rock stuff, eschewing the really quiet ones that had whispered through houses further down the country. The slight problem was that our beloved hosts had elected to coat their garden in grass, which makes me sneeze like a big nerd all summer, but luckily despite the odd ostentatious ATCHOO!! my body kept itself mostly in order. The crowd sang, laughed and threw themselves into it when I divided them into singing teams and played them off against one another in different registers, styles and species. And when the finale came they waltzed, hugged and danced about with beautiful abandon under the cloud-strewn sky.

The big finale. Man stands on chair. 

When the last note fell and Louis and I took our final bows together I felt the cumulative, supportive warmth of the last two weeks coursing through me. To do band gigs to large crowds of strangers in loud rock rooms is one of the best feelings in the world, and the white hot adrenaline and euphoria of the performance is nature’s best addiction. But doing these sorts of gigs is less of a passionate shot to the arm and more of a beautiful, heartfelt hug that warms the soul and lingers for days.
We stayed for a long time, laughing and embracing our new friends, leading a group in a singalong of our duet My Little Lusitania and floating on a cloud of goodwill. And as we loaded up the tour wagon for the final time on this trip, we felt the new connections we have made, the countless hugs, laughs and stories we have shared warming us and speeding us on our way.
I shall be writing a retrospective on the whole tour in a few days once I’m safely home in England once more, but until then I just want to thank our beautiful army of hosts up and down the country, and to our final hosts Jane and John for the huge effort they put into creating such a perfect evening for us to share.
Thanks Jane & John! 

Tour Diary - Day Eight 

Preston – Caroline & Mike’s house
After a long and leisurely day of drawing cartoons for a book that a friend of mine is working on (don’t be fooled. I’m shit at drawing and am baffled as to why I was asked. However my Emu was convincing) I picked up Louis and off we went to Preston. These northern gigs have all taken place within relatively safe distance of our two Manchester dwellings, so we’ve been able to enjoy the visceral thrill of being on tour while at home. Which basically means lounging about all day whilst telling the world we’re “at work”.
We arrived in a leafy suburb (why are suburbs always “leafy”? It’s the only adjective they’re allowed, I suppose) and pulled up outside a massive house. This was the home of Caroline and Mike, the two most die-hard Bedlam Six fans I’ve ever met. Their house was festooned with copies in every medium of everything Louis has ever sung into a microphone. It was clear that while I was most welcome indeed, it was Louis who was pulling them in that night, so we tacitly agreed that this must be the gig where our roles were reversed, and I should warm them up for him. 
However before all that there was the matter of the food. We have been continually delighted by the culinary wonders we have been presented on this tour, and any thoughts I had of shedding my holiday curves were lost somewhere between Brighton’s massive pasta marathon and Surrey’s meringue bonanza. And these folks were going for broke. We had a vast tray of different exotic Spanish sausage, freshly retrieved from the continent by their gourmand friend who happily toured me around his meaty presentation. I just read that sentence back. Yep. I’m leaving it in.
Three homemade curries! All the diet coke I could cram into my glum sober mouth! It was ace. We sat about outside, chatting with the younger contingent of the event, Mike and Caroline’s kids and their friends. All of these folk seem to gravitate around the Ferret in Preston, which Louis tells me is an awesome place to play. Looks like I’ll be back in Preston before I know it.
Performance time rolled around, and our hosts had gone to town on the performance space, hefting sofas and chairs into a makeshift auditorium for the large crowd. I tuned up and cracked into it.
I opted for a shorter set than usual, as I was well aware that these folks were clamouring for Barabbas. How very biblical. But I wanted to get them riled up for him, so I grabbed a few of the rowdier element from the crowd and press-ganged them into a percussion section to accompany one of my less-successful guitar solos. Luckily they took to their instruments/objects with such gusto that my seal-flippered attempts at rock triumph were drowned out by a chorus of thuds.

Fingers forgetting they have a music degree
I finished with Kiss The Misfits, a new song which (I CAN EXCLUSIVELY REVEAL…) will be coming out on the latest Xtra Mile Compilation (Details HERE. It's the title track of our upcoming new EP and HOWFUCKINGCOOLISTHAT). They hurled themselves into the end crowd vocal with tremendous enthusiasm, and I left the stage feeling very supported by this lovely bunch of new friends.

Continuing my series of Patrick Swayze tributes, here is the finale from Ghost
Louis hit the stage with grandeur. It was lovely to see him work a crowd who were clearly so familiar with his stuff. Their love for him was tangible, and they sang all the big bits in songs like “Mother” without the slightest hesitation. They even bombarded him with requests that precipitated some serious lyric revision on his part, so far back in the back catalogue they were. It was a bloody pleasure to watch. He daringly finished with one of the songs from his musical rather than an old favourite, and it paid off in spades as the whole crowd rose up and wailed the repeated chorus over and over, their grins widening with every bar. It was great.
Drinks, chats, hugs and warm goodbyes later, we loaded up and set off once more for home. Preston is ace.

Thanks Caroline and Mike!
Read Louis’ tour diary HERE

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