Grabbed by their scruffs, thrown in a rough hessian sack and tossed in the lake shortly after birth by some farmer or other, Town of Cats shoulda been goners before they even got started. But attempted euthanasia’ll do funny things for friendships – that, and lack of oxygen. Rescued from the water’s numbing embrace by Old Ma and her trusty sidekick Sooz ‘The BallCrusher’; Joe, Adam, Barney, Jake, Toby, Henry and Nik were shoved unceremoniously behind instruments, mewling and dripping. Ol’ Ma took up her trusty sax, and told them all to play up or pack it in. And play they did. Spun messed-up fairy tales of their former lives and spat ‘em out over brassy hooks, skanking rhythms, hypnotic grooves and tantalising melodies… They sang starry-eyed of childhood wonders and lustily of life’s little highs. They yowled and hissed at the moon, longing for something bigger and brighter than beige southern towns and the work-drink-sleep-repeat monotony of ‘the real world’. They twisted and stomped and yelled and blew and hammered, beasts possessed of the fiery, wild groove that spilled forth from their fingers and fangs. Can’t sing? They’ll make you. Can’t dance? They’ll make you. They are Town of Cats.
We say: “Town Of Cats will definitely get you up and dancing. Their raw energy alone will have you on your feet. When we saw them the whole place was jumping. We know you’re in for a treat as soon as they come on stage – see you on the ‘dancefloor'”