Recently I received an email from a new Dublin band, who, by the sounds of it, have already reached a point in their youthful existence where they're clinging to artistic life by a thread: coma-ridden, hooked up to an IV, breathing with the aid of gently bleeping machines.
Well, they didn't say that, exactly, but I was left to conclude it from the thrust of their email, which made them sound less like vibrant young...
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