Artists
Biography
Emerging from the debris of mclusky (Jon Chapple), the haunts of various damp, dark basement clubs (Simon Alexander), and the forging of drum power through 7 grades of piano teaching (Steve Morgan), Shooting At Unarmed Men bring you tunes you can whistle, dance or fight to, depending on your preference, consumption or I.Q. level.
One has a guitar, which he tries to play at the same time as singing songs that make no sense to the drummer. The drummer is not really a drummer?! The third member is the person holding all the cards as concerns the bass guitar, and any extraneous screaming and/or shouting.
The songs we write come from the same place as most songs come from, and we're not sure where that is yet, but when we find it we're gonna cash it in, take it for all it's got, sell out and go live somewhere less shit than Cardiff.
Beginning life in 1999, the band has had many flimsy forms that congealed at their own reflection and quickly became stolid. These other forms were taken somewhere remote and purposefully drowned to death in their own miserable, lethargic sputum then ritualistically shot twice in the head.
This happened about three times (if memories are not lies that we make up to help us feel better about what happened yesterday), and then, all of a sudden, Simon had joined as bassist, where upon two, instead of one, embarked on the journey of killing bastardised versions of the band they were looking for, until one day, it was decided (without words) that they should bully a fully trained pianist into playing half a drum kit, none of which belonged to him, until he was good enough to sack and replace with another less competent beat keeper*.
And so these three finally formed what is now Shooting At Unarmed Men.
If we were to wear our influences on our sleeve (which would depend on your definition of wear, influences and sleeve), they would probably include, among other things, a variety of British garden birds that sing in our streets, the highly addictive and unhealthy past-time of smoking tobacco, driving our polluting and fuel consuming automobiles to and fro (seemingly without destination or purpose in and around Britain, the least united of kingdoms), drinking whiskey, working shit jobs for too little money and which hold no hope of future prospects.
It doesn't get less complicated than this.
One has a guitar, which he tries to play at the same time as singing songs that make no sense to the drummer. The drummer is not really a drummer?! The third member is the person holding all the cards as concerns the bass guitar, and any extraneous screaming and/or shouting.
The songs we write come from the same place as most songs come from, and we're not sure where that is yet, but when we find it we're gonna cash it in, take it for all it's got, sell out and go live somewhere less shit than Cardiff.
Beginning life in 1999, the band has had many flimsy forms that congealed at their own reflection and quickly became stolid. These other forms were taken somewhere remote and purposefully drowned to death in their own miserable, lethargic sputum then ritualistically shot twice in the head.
This happened about three times (if memories are not lies that we make up to help us feel better about what happened yesterday), and then, all of a sudden, Simon had joined as bassist, where upon two, instead of one, embarked on the journey of killing bastardised versions of the band they were looking for, until one day, it was decided (without words) that they should bully a fully trained pianist into playing half a drum kit, none of which belonged to him, until he was good enough to sack and replace with another less competent beat keeper*.
And so these three finally formed what is now Shooting At Unarmed Men.
If we were to wear our influences on our sleeve (which would depend on your definition of wear, influences and sleeve), they would probably include, among other things, a variety of British garden birds that sing in our streets, the highly addictive and unhealthy past-time of smoking tobacco, driving our polluting and fuel consuming automobiles to and fro (seemingly without destination or purpose in and around Britain, the least united of kingdoms), drinking whiskey, working shit jobs for too little money and which hold no hope of future prospects.
It doesn't get less complicated than this.