As often happens with the finer things in life, a mistake led to a collision which led to a drink which led to an idea that led to a fantastical yet unexpected outcome. And so it was. . . . ! The Fallen Apples were born! The self styled duck billed platypus of roots and folk music sprung into life from a cidery womb of what ifs, why nots and you never know, it just might work.
And then, a bit later, a rag tag bunch of chancers pulled a struggling rabbit from a tatty hat. . . . And it was gooooood. Proper good mind. Not like that bollocks on X Factor. A frenetic yet subtle blend of jazz, blues, Irish fiddlelydees, country smaltz and bluegrass blitzkriegs proved popular not only with cider numbed underclass of the gutter but also the efforvescent Burberry wearing spivs of the Moet set. And so it must be, The Fallen Apples must be the finest troupe of musicians in the land!
Able to transcend race, class, gender, unusual dietary requirements even religion ! Oh what bliss to hear The mandolins melody fabulously flitting and flying like a swallow on speed, underpinned by the juggernaut thud of the double bass, skipping trills of the rhythm guitar, searing, searching wail of harmonica and of course, humming bird wing drums.
And they sing lovely too, like Donny and Marie, only different. And that's just the listening. To see them in the flesh.. well they're really really really gorgeous! So there you go folks. Life's short. The fallen apples are ace. Don't miss out.