The distance.. a basement practice room, a drummer in a parka, hood pulled tightly over his head against Teesside, guitar player repeating a muted chord pattern on his (famous) 330. Neither looking at one another or swapping a word. Like the Riverside and the Broken Doll, this essential locus in northern music history is past, now a centre for a more mainstream evangelism and Nath is on his fourth Jag (not the guitar).At least two secret trips up and down the A19 before “bass?” is muttered and players names from guitarist and drummer’s most recent ‘outfits’ slighted. Bald one suggested. Tries out. Why not? A year of 80 mile smoggy drives, 1500 to 2000 miles down the road to ‘avant-rock’ insignificance. Prep for the first show at the Head of basement… bass player feedbacks his arse to the crowd, Fret drummer smashes his glass on the guitar sound. Gear carried across the road to Dr Browns, supported by the Futureheads, move in to 36 Lime, second guitar suggested, tried out, passed over. No more smog in the valves. Acrylic paint and contaminated ground and culverted burns instead. Some time Fugazi get supported and the leader of hardcore says write more songs – he owns feedback.