Django Django, clinking/clunking/clanking

Clunk, cluunnkk...

What's that clunking? The sound of a clumsy workman lugging piece of scaffolding down by the old canal? Hmmm, maybe.

In fact, maybe it's more of a "clank". There it is again!

Clank, claannkk...

An archaic drum-loop perhaps, something off a yellowing old fossil of a beat-box. A relic reminder of a time when hair-cuts were squarer and girls could only wear t-shirts off one shoulder, denting the breeze from someone's car window.

Clink, cliinnkk...

Actually, no way, it's a cowboy! A fucking rustling bandit, arriving to silence a whooping saloon, spurs digging into hard wood floors.

Or maybe, in the minds of Dalston's latest scew-whiff post-indie boffins, Django Django, just maybe, it's all three...

Click the name to download, it's the B-side to the new single. 'Love's Dart'

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