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2/8/2015 CliveAnders 5813 CliveAnders
4 stars [3 Votes, 4.17 Stars]
Latest Chat2/16/2020 12:07:14 PM EST
DaveOD: The ghost ship still sails.
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Latest Comment 2/16/2020 12:05:46 PM EST
DaveOD: 10 years and still sounds fresh.
Latest Backstage 2/2/2015 1:44:36 AM EST
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ghengus23: great down dirty country rock feelin' from the start. Reminds me of social distortion. Not sure if...




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John Ammirati, Andrew Beswick, James Aran Cooper, Sebastian Hood, Scott Challinor


And so it began...

that two outcasts of taste met by a dirty Cambridge bus station on an April afternoon, between the homeless people and teenagers wearing baggy trousers and Nirvana t-shirts.

John had scruffylong hair like a mid-nineties indie reject, and Drew strangely resembled the bastard offspring of Graham Coxon and Burt Jansch, although he had sometimes been compared to Clint Boon of the bob-cut. Nothing else was notable about them, so they started a band.

John had actually arrived on English soil a week earlier, with sand in his pockets fresh from the Arizona desert. He was dry like a desert rat. As a child he saw Jerry Lee Lewis smash up the piano and decided to pick up the guitar instead. By the time he'd learnt his fourth chord, a one-way ticket to England had been purchased... indie-pop salvation awaited on Blighty's shores.

After stumbling into a job, Drew didn't know where he was, but he was in Cambridge. In his old band he'd played average versions of average indie songs (Oasis). Then he began tuning his ears to some more interesting sounds (almost-French gypsy jazz). His first floor box room on Upper Gwydir Street was to witness the slow, painful birth of Amida.

For several minutes they played to old women and dogs in local folk clubs. Heading north in search of a drummer, they found a home in the hills of Sheffield, before crossing the psychological border to the Gotham City of Britain, Manchester...

Augmenting the line-up is Jamesy, who lives 10 minutes away from where he was born, and probably always will. He has played bass for several years, after the discovery that he couldn't play barre chords. He tries to write and edits the most infrequent fanzine ever. At one gig he fell in love with one particular band and eventually became their bass player forever and ever.

Also on the Amida payroll is Seb Hood, who recently, mercifully, cut his crazy-ass hair. Seb has Tourrette's Syndrome, and can be heard yelping such nonsense as "Meller" in the middle of otherwise stirring ballads. And last, but certainly not least, the indispensible Scott Challinor, aka Mr. C, aka Scatman Crothers, has been taken onboard and serves as drummer/spiritual guide to the boys in the band. Scott is also the musician of the group, and is not unaccustomed to dropping phrases like "out of tune" and "don't sing through your arse, John."

United, the 5-piece are out to prove something. Anything.


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