9th July 1985... on this day Joe M. Rodgers of Tennessee was nominated to become Ambassador of the United States of America to France. He would succeed Evan Griffith Galbraith.

Meanwhile in Essex, Niall Richey Buckler, founder, chancellor and warmonger of Mumm-ra was born. The consequence was that fourteen years on, an idea that had been fermenting for his whole life bore consequence, a flower bloomed and the band was formed. We five unsuspecting teenagers were drawn together by a mutual disaffection for what we saw as the drudgery and boredom of various aspects of youthful culture in our school. Together, we developed a fondness for making noise and later, songs, of a kind.

The songs were an expression of the effects our surroundings had on our imaginations. We inhabit a little town called Bexhill-on-Sea, a once thriving Victorian resort on the South Coast of England that has long since slid into a small, grey existence where the elderly inexplicably congregate. But it is, if you look around, an intriguing place and as youngster eager not to slide effortlessly into the boredom we saw all around us, we found that all we needed was some imagination.

Looking around we saw the same beauty in the greys of the concrete that we saw in the sea. The uninspiring was, to us, an inspiration. Here the duck-pond was an oasis. Here long walks were an adventure. Great reward could be found in a simple cup of tea and Tesco was not a multi-billion pound corporation; it was the generous provider of sugary-based delights.

So, we began creating music that stretched our experience of every aspect of our lives into new and invigorating shapes. According to some, in our infancy, we were as indigestible as a cheese and gristle sandwich. But to us writing songs became something that we just had to do. Soon we found that local gigs in pubs, rowing clubs, churches and schools were beginning to be met with bemused acclaim from locals young and old.

Over time, with the inevitable onset of competence, and dare we say musicianship, our sound and ambitions gradually changed. Also in this time, the few friends and affiliates we had acquired either went mad or left us here in Bexhill. One of these was our old friend and former keyboard player, who in a lapse of sanity that involved a toy gun, a local post office and a bungled escape found himself serving a stretch at her majesty's pleasure.

It wasn't too long before the Bexhill town border was crossed and we began to say "hello" to the world beyond. An epiphany, of sorts, happened at the Crowhurst Village Hall where all sorts of show-business impresarios turned up having first become lost in the wilds of East Sussex. Thankfully, the local horticultural society had their best "you're-not-from-round-these-parts" specs on that day and re-directed the London sorts from the pub in which they found themselves to the right venue. Luckily, we proved quite popular.

The last nine months have seen us honing what we do best ? writing pop music that sweeps and sways and hopefully does justice to the music that makes us get up in the morning ? the lush beauty of The Beach Boys via the pastoral quirks of The Kinks to the outer limits reached by The Beta Band and Sigur Ros.

We are: Tate, Noo, Oli, Niall & Gareth