…are GREAT. I wrote a press release for Andrew (MILK). Their 7″ comes on out Monday and they’re playing at Powerlunches on Saturday  – GO SEE!!


 Silver Fox come crashing through their backyard to bring you shiny new 7” ‘Captial Kiss’/’Arosa’, out September 10th on MILK Records.

There’s no messing around, no polite introductions. Lung blasting, heart-stopping cries bleed into one as the band let their presence be known loud and clear on ‘Capital Kiss’. Shots of percussive energy swallowed whole by sparring low-end melodies, it’s a noise-pop diamond in the rough tempered by atonal wig-outs and eternal questions. Musing on the ambiguities of text etiquette for a roughly hewn racket with multiple curtain calls, Newcastle based four-piece Silver Fox enlighten the unenlightened with their revelatory declaration; “one kiss or two – they all mean the same.”

Then there’s the heavenly ‘Arosa’, skipping through the breeze with its hands in the air. A multi-vocal bouquet of harmonies, Newcastle’s alchemic guitar quartet dally with the softer side of indie-pop and with a glint in their eye let the voice do the talking for this bittersweet Cherry Carmex laced smacker.

Silver Fox – Laura Lancaster, Susie Green, Rachel Lancaster, Rebecca Knight – formed off the back of a drunken conversation in 2009 and have never looked back. Their debut release ‘Waves On In/Marble World’ was released to a flurry of acclaim via M’Lady’s Records on delicious coloured vinyl. This latest single on MÏLK records will no doubt continue that tradition and comes pressed on dramatic white vinyl. These good time grrrls are about to show the world that’s there’s a lot more to the North East than Geordie Shore (although it’s a great place to start)…

New poems


Black mass,

topsy turvy moan,

sun-speckled coat baking in the heat.

Regally spreadeagled,

hubristic tendencies,

a cut above the rest.

Scratch out your eyes,

usurp your haven,

interrupt your dreams,

whilst warming your toes.


Jagged edges, sublime prowess,

death-still, air hangs close.

In the belly of the gods,

an ungodly temper

splits the scene in two.

Night-time disco clubland,

sparks flying here and there,

white hot gauze lines the clouds

like strobe lights in the coal black sky.


Twisted confetti,

grisly lumps of sizzling carrion laid out to dry.

Snarling lips, slithers of silver,

a leap of faith turns sour.

Red suns illuminate the grey,

your net is cast, shackles set.