Petrol Terriers

Time was when Ryan drank Stella by the bucket-full and told coppers to fuck off for a laugh. Throughout this patchy time, timeless classics such as ‘Jobseekers’, ‘Game Over’ and ‘Figure it out’ were recorded to a pleasurable standard, but still the Stella poured on down and the tunes just kept-a-comin’. First off Ryan needed a band and recruited Iain (or ‘Tres’ for those in the know, ex-infected) for playing drums. Next to join forces was a strange analogue creature from the far stretches of our solar system dubbed Rynok, whose improv synth skills blew most PA systems apart. Next in line was a young Anthony Blevins (now of Suzi Won fame) on guitar. Then for some inexplicable reason Ryan got lugged on bass guitar (how this happened is a mystery and shall never be answered in our lifetime). And then Dan came along. Well actually, Dan was there all along, in fact before anyone else, it’s just I’ve got it in the wrong order. Dan (now also And. Or Andfullstop or Digidan or Danelectro) was battling it out with Rynok on the synth/noise front and guess what? Everybody won! Slowly but surely things mutated and took form. With the exclusion of two tried and failed bass players, an extra drummer (don’t tell Tres!) and Rynok contributing less each gig, the setup circa mid 2006 was as follows: Ryan/Guitar, Vox. Joe/Bass. Dan/Laptop. Iain/Drums. The band peaked dizzy heights with such escapades as:



“Ryan gets tagged and curfewed!” Vol 1

“Let’s all moan about Iain” Vol 6

“Falling off a brick wall pissed” Vol 2

“how much tac can Joe smoke in one day?” Vol 1

“The Fun go mad in Leeds” Vol 3

“Wheres out fucking money, Kelly?” Vol 8



And so it all came to pass. Things got too close and Ryan abandoned Ship! Chilling out and cooling off, born was the idea of Petrol Terriers with newer material albeit in the same RIF vain. Taken on for the Terriers were Jamie-O-Shit (of Burning Hells madness, The Shits, and Keyside Strike pandemonium). On bass was a stocky young chap namely Cam, a fine musician and cocky little shit to boot. The Terriers are yet to have their second practice, but what’s the hurry? As long as Ryan stays off the Stella Artois and rocks the cranberry, the songs will get recorded and his little black liver will feel all the better for it. Good Night, God Bless.