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We are a Leeds based band called Black Diamond Bay. There are six of us. We play music somewhere between ‘a seething strutting motorik funk charge’ and ‘edgy electronica’. We met in a dirty roadside diner on the outskirts of a town somewhere near Vegas. This is our story.

I had spoken to Apple James only once. He said 'Come out to the desert, bring some songs.' Well we had some songs so me and Tom took them to the desert, just like he said. The dust and the carrion are all I remember. We didn't find Apple James, just footprints and echoes and empty packets of Lucky Strike, crushed by his fists. We came upon the diner just as our water ran out. We’d left our horses way back so things were looking pretty tight.

Inside that diner, Agne Motieciute was serving coffee. She wore her pink waitress uniform with disdain and sang some mournful ballad in a strange tongue. Her voice sure scared us so we asked her to join our band. Colin Sutton, a drifter, drunk on moonshine and past glories, looked over and said with that ashtray voice of his ‘I’m the fastest bass player in anywhere.’ He flashed a gypsy smile, betraying teeth of gilded steel. ‘So we need you too’, we stuttered. 'Well then...' He said.

Ben Ziapour, the local sheriff, young and dangerous, entered. Seeing Sutton he flicked his holster open. Sutton laughed a jackal laugh and told us he couldn't shoot but Ziapour could handle a guitar. We guessed we'd need a guitarist and told him so. Ben Wilson, a trucker with a soul measured in Celsius, spat tobacco on the floor and said he wanted to see Europe, maybe even the world. He told us he would be drumming. Sutton laughed his jackal laugh and said once more: 'Well then...'

The desert was no place to rehearse. We had to get back to England. It wasn't easy, getting Motieciute on a plane with her black fire and Sutton on with his knives. We made it though and once there we holed up and played. Music was made and then dismantled, made and dismantled. Finally, a song was delivered to us that scared the blood from our veins. That song was called Philharmonic Bubbles. It concerns this: a person you get to loving saves your life, only to one day leave you for another. We’d all had that, one way or the other. Love’s just a visitor that doesn’t take its shoes off.

That’s how it happened. That’s how come you got this song to listen to. No word a lie. Maybe you like it, maybe you don’t. Who knows? We just put the thing out there, see if it catches fire, just like Apple James wanted.

http://blackdiamondbay.co.uk