They called him cranky, they called him excentric, they called him swampflower of austrian pop. Predictibility does not seem to figure among the virtues of Lonesome Andi Haller and he couldn't care less.
In the dark ages of the first affordable 4track tapedecks a horrible freak accident involving ether waves, modified pyramids and the dried testicles of an abyssinian saint, forever changes his multiinstrumentalist life of lonesomeness: Facing several clones of himself resulting from the failed experiment, he decides to make the best of the mess and puts them to the only use he can think of, forming a whole new entity: the LONESOME ANDI HALLER BAND - the band that would never split up.
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But their bodies are feeble, their minds are dull and after a while LAH is forced to stand on stage alone again, while the ungrateful bastards only as much as fulfill their duties as playback. Still, sweat is the blood of art and the quest continues. The search for the tune, for the sound, for the beat, that will still the desire, that will feed the need, that will make it feel special, the ancient beast that lives in us all, makes it dance, makes it howl...enjoy!!
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