Originally the eccentric brainchild of Paul Infanti (from much missed John Peel favourites, Treebound Story) and DJ/producer Sophie Toes (Sheffield’s foremost Minx of the Mixer), Cuckoo Clocks have since become a fully-fledged 6 piece symphonic beast, blending beautifully naive clockwork rhythms with definitive super glue melodies to create a pastoral Garden Wall Of Sound. Educated comparisons have traveled from Velvet Underground to Simon & Garfunkel; Television to Fun Boy Three, and after a much anticipated debut show at Sheffield legendary beat venue, Club 60, the band went on to organize their own show- a spectacular vaudeville cabaret at Sheffield’s Lantern Theatre. Now signed to The Preservation Society Presents, the band’s debut EP will be released on limited CD and download from 24th April 2010 to coincide with a full live performance at The Half Moon in Herne Hill, London. With the troubadour of the Kitsch & Sync as your guide, enter a world where the Mellow Mystic moves fast but never runs, the Golden Lady ticks as The Strong Arm of the pendulum tocks, the Soothsayer Mystic conjures impressions before your very eyes- standing loyally before the queen of the mallets and keeper of the keys. Ladies And Gentlemen, The Cuckoo Clocks! Softly surreal- like something from the mind of a peculiarly English Terry Gilliam- the band draw influences from the other worldly and subtly strange, creating an original style which suggests a visual narrative that inspired Word Magazine writer and music critic John McCready to create a gently twisted story for a world where the clocks tick backwards and nothing is quite what it seems. (See myspace for the full version www.myspace.com/thecuckooclocksuk). Out where the road becomes a lane and the lane a track, you find yourself checking your watch. Time seems to forget to press on so mercilessly. You worry that you’re not worrying. Pick up a stick and trail it along. Say hello to an old man in an older coat who smiles like he knows you. On the trail ahead, heat haze outlines of people you expect to meet have gone by the time you get to them. There’s a bustle in your hedgerow, but whatever it was has slid elsewhere before you can discern shape or size.
