Obligatory Press Release of Smallpox Confidential and their
self-titled CD.

There will be no launch party. We kind of wanted to keep the CD quiet. Not show it to anyone. But, somehow, word of the CD has seeped out. Now it's your turn.

On this CD are four white males, none of whom like you very much.

Norrell (synth, guitar, pedals, drums) is a modern caveman whose hobbies include being banned from his volunteer radio shows, making the most horrible-sounding pedals, and playing a large number of instruments. Has appeared in public in a green mankini. Has removed said mankini in public.

Brennan (bass, guitar) is a modern example of misguided talent and vanity, who delights in making the most extreme sounds, regardless of their worth to anyone else. During one song, you can hear his feedback abruptly altering to a sort of clapping sound. The speaker cone tore and it flaps helplessly.

As ridiculously skilled and talented as Norrell, Martin (synth, loops, guitar, pedals, drums) is a modern construction worker, whose home resembles a band studio, stocked with roughly the same number and variety of instruments. Some sort of genius.

Two of the above are hard-working saints. One of the above now identifies as trans.
And then there's Brokenmouth. Can't sing. You don't want to know about him.

Smallpox Confidential know we're all heading for the mincer. All of us. Our children, our species. We know we can fix it. But we won't. Because we've encouraged ourselves to become so personally isolated that humanity is, essentially, some other thing, nothing to do with us. We're too busy jockeying our own personal positions to be bothered with the wider circumstances. Not our problem. Not my job.

People like this used to be called 'shiny bums', and the people beneath them, 'jobsworths'. The difference? Different layers on the ziggurat.

Extinction. It's easy to say. Easier, it seems, to do (just took us a few thousand years). We're not angry about it. We believe we'll do what we've programmed ourselves to do. Human nature. Smallpox Confidential want to be there at the end, to help boot ourselves over the edge and into the abyss of the past.

Ziggurat ziggurat oi oi oi!