Ye Gods!
"Ye Gods! - Music forged in gargantuan pits of fire and brimstone, deep in the belly of the earth; it will tantalize anyone who likes to laugh until they feel sick, provided they are not scared by loud noises."
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In the beginning…

…there was nothing, just a void. But the interesting thing about nothingness is that it actually exists. If there was just nothing then no one would comment, but to notice that "there is nothing" means there must be an area for nothing to be hanging around in. And it is in these voids of nothingness that accidents happen. Nothing gets bored. Bored with being nothing. And once that happens there is not nothing anymore, but something.

And the something in the void, in this tale of deepest woe, is a spark. At least, that’s how it started out. But then it became apparent that a spark couldn’t just exist on its own, it must have been made by something. And suddenly where once there was nothing and then just a spark, any onlookers would see a valve.

Cherrance Metal

Dave Against The Machine

Strat Williams

Topher Icecry

"Impossible!" I hear you cry? No. You see, the ultimate power in the universe is that of Rock, son of the Great God METAL. And the Great God METAL can be mischievous, especially when there are voids of bored nothingness lingering around with not a lot pencilled in their diaries. I digress…

It then became apparent that the valve could not have produced a spark without some form of power. And then other things started appearing at an alarming rate. Within a millisecond many components appeared and then there was a Marshall looming in the darkness of the void. But not just any Marshall. A finely honed Marshall. Possibly the finest Marshall that was ever to exist. A Marshall of incalculable power as it was far to complicated to have been built. Called Margaret. The fact that She merely existed is the only reason She could be.

And so it became apparent that Margaret the Marshall needed someone to take the credit for making Her, as no one would be prepared to believe She didn’t have a maker.

And thus the Great God METAL made Jim Marshall. And as Jim needed somewhere to live and the Great God METAL did not do house sharing, he busied himself in the task of creating the world. Thankfully METAL completed this task before His hopeless addiction to Blackthorn's sweet nectar had time to become an issue.

And then thunder did rumble and clouds crossed a skyscape that moments before did not exist. Volcanoes erupted and from the primeval swamp, crawled a form of life known as Early Cherrance. “Cider,” it mumbled. And to cut a long story short, humans evolved. And that is evolution in a nutshell.

But you see there was a problem. Rock, son of METAL, needed beings to perform his mighty melodies. Melodies that can make a grown man cry like a small girl with an itchy minge.

And thus METAL had an idea. “I SHALL CREATE A BAND,” He shrieked, “GODS THAT CAN PLAY MY SONS MIGHTY MELODIES!” Then He looked around and realised He was talking to Himself. Very loudly.

METAL took a swig of His medicine, which He would sup to calm His nerves when He got over excited and set about His work. Of course I speak of Ben Crossman's Amber Wonderment.

First, feeling very inspired, METAL picked up his clay (the putty of life that allowed him to create ‘beings’) and created a force mighty enough to tame the Malevolent Marshall known only as Margaret. And thus the guitar-wielding warlord talked of often in myth and legend, but thought to not really exist was born. Of course I refer to none other than Dave Against The Machine.
“DC,” he mumbled through genetically unprepared lips. “Sabbaaaaath.” This pleased METAL. He had made a good start.

Then METAL turned his attention to band member number 2. The Marshall might have Her master, but Rock needed yet another axe man to play his terrible tunes. And thus Strat Williams came to be, a Fender plucking demon from the bowls of the earth where fire and brimstone rule supreme.
“ Heeendrix,” he burbled. “I looooove to rock.” Superb, thought METAL, I am doing myself proud.

But now METAL had to turn His attention to a deeply testing task and a look of grim determination cast over His face as His brow furrowed deeply. For now He had to deal with what most Gods dread, what many Gods choose to ignore, but whom without you end up with gay pop music. Those most foul of beasts known collectively as "The Rhythm Section". Guitarists are all very well, but they need someone capable of holding their inane widdling together with some sort of beat. Someone who has a vague sense of rhythm and mistakenly classes themself as a musician. Of course I refer to that breed of animal known as the drummer. And thus Topher Icecry was created, a creature that was capable of holding down a rhythm. Like a small fish. With brain disease. That is dead. He also had the power to drool uncontrollably and randomly speed up any song whenever he liked.
“Duuuuu,” he mumbled. “Uuuuuuh.” METAL was pleased. Icecry could not talk coherently which would prove to be a blessing in interviews.

And then METAL had one last job to do. One last band member to create. Possibly the most testing of all His tasks as, once the drummer has been formed, there is only one place to go: down one last notch on the evolutionary scale to a lower form of life than the amoebae: the bassist. And thus Cherrance Metal breathed his first breath.
“Cider,” he whispered and a small trickle of piss ran down his leg.
METAL was wise and handed Cherrance a Bass guitar instead. Cherrance's fat chipolata fingers moved over the fret board with the grace of a panther. A panther that has been in a bad road accident. And is crippled by polio.
METAL smiled to Himself with utter contentment. He had His band. And thus Ye Gods! were born and METAL addressed His band and outlined their mission.

“Yes Master METAL!” the Gods shrieked with glee.

Then METAL waved His hand. There was a wink of light and a sound like a light bulb blowing (‘ping’) and then the smell of sulphur hung in the air where the four beings had moments before been standing. And lo, it was that Ye Gods! were placed upon the earth to ‘make Rock’. They are now available to bring Rock to you at very reasonable prices wherever there are willing disciples who will kneel at the altar of METAL. Let the glorious rumblings of heavy metal live on for eternity…

Topher Icecry

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