The Still City

The Still City began in a basement apartment that smelled constantly of Ramen noodles and mold. With a duct taped Epiphone Les Paul, an electric drum set constructed circa 1989, and two sets of headphones, we played to the cart pushers who wandered our neighborhood, the nympho who lived above us, and the large quantities of ants that swarmed in the corners of our rooms.

Before that there was the small town of Monument, Colorado. There was the shitty high school where we met. There was a collective failing out of college, a random telephone call and the coincidences that landed us in that basement apartment.

Since, we’ve moved our operations into a tool shed, and have fallen for the dingy clubs of Denver.