A Vaudevillian Revival.

I've grown to find the past two years of my life has been devoured by an utter devotion in my soul to the generation of a Vaudevillian Revival of the 21st Century.

Burlesque dancers dazzling audiences, eyes trying to get to grips with some of the glorious garters sported by beautiful women. Big Bands playing a variety gypsy folk, soaked in gin, blood and all the lust you can fit into one dance floor. An odd obsession with death. A band, in my eyes, isn't complete without a rich double bass, and some well laid accordian. And loads, of unnecessary screaming and drunkeness.

The men are much more attractive, when they holler, and beat their chains with hammers, and sport suspenders with collared shirts, and blow your eardrums with rich baritones.

It's the only place where a woman can steal your soul, and sell it to a black market for a very good price. It's a place for converts; evangelised agnostics with gold teeth and well-oiled pick up lines.

It'll eat your heart out and replace it with coal.
And you won't mind one little bit.






-The Hoodoo Emporium.
Burlesque, Mojo, and the gigs of the Jitterbug Club.

http://www.hoodooemporium.com/index.html


-Juke Baritone and the Swamp Dogs.
A freak cabaret. The best way to have your ears assaulted.
At your nearest Speigeltent.

http://www.myspace.com/jukebaritone


-Graveyard Train.
'Like a steel-capped boot to the face'.
Blues

http://www.graveyardtrain.com.au/


-Frankie Valentine.
Burlesque.
Your very own femme fetale.

http://www.myspace.com/frankie.valentine







Pull out your tarot cards and predict a false future.
Every single soul in the worlds got a tale. Even if it aint the truth at all that they are tellin'..