Sebastian Melmoth stumbled from out of the desert sometime in 2010. They were tired, hungry and in need of a good drink. It seems that the barren wasteland from which they emerged, provided this group of vagabonds with copious unfathomable treasures. Jan-Carl Raspe, evidently the wisest stooge, was seen sporting a bass guitar as he trudged wearily into the nearest saloon. The regulars have since been known to recount stories of Raspe’s prodigious skills behind the computing machine – drum loops and soft synths galore – a myriad of sounds beyond the reaches of the imagination. Ulrike Meinhof, fresh from her resurrection, amazed the locals with her custom-made threads, fabulous haircut and beating rhythms so infectious, they set the stray dogs into a rabid frenzy… not to mention the male population of the town. Andreas Baader, arguably the most handsome of the three, immediately made for the brothel. Within minutes, soothing guitar melodies began emanating from the open French windows on