Once in a while, you sit up and listen to some band you’ve never heard of. Once in a while, you don’t hate them. That’s the first step to success. If you hadn’t guessed from the music, Die Cherry are an indie-ish band. Ish by nature — for you see, genres are for pussies. Sure, Die Cherry probably fit into one, and that’s cool, but Die Cherry aren’t bothered about the fit.
Die Cherry are at particular unease with third-person narratives. So you will allow them to cut the shit and sell ourselves. When we were kids we used to send demo tapes to people who sat at desks. Somewhere near those desks, some kind of trash receptacle would stand. And that’s where the tapes went. You knew where you stood back then. Fast-forward ten or fifteen years, and it’s all different. Or is it? We have no idea.
These days, what do bands say about themselves? Usually some common muck regarding world domination, spoken by an unblemished hairstyle who’s never paid any rent. We (that is to say, the collective called Die Cherry) have paid plenty of rent.
Alas, paying rent never buys the welcome mat. Die Cherry need somewhere to live, a little place to call home. Along our musical journey, there’s been a voice - that keeps on calling us; down the road - that’s where we’ve always been. Sure, every stop we made, we’ve made some new friends. But we could never stop for long. We’d turn around and be off again.
Perhaps tomorrow we’ll want to settle down. Until such time, we’ll keep moving. On.
Ladies and Gentlemen, we are Die Cherry and we were made for music.