Strapping Fieldhands

***Back in the rough n' tumble days (and nights) of the 1990s, you'd be hard pressed to find a single slobbering indie-rock drunkard who wasn't a Fieldhands fan.  From the tremendous early Siltbreeze singles to the magnificent Omphalos full-lengths, the galaxy and beyond were charmed by their wayward off-kilter pre/post-skiffle, pre/post-psychedelic, and pre/post-punk avant pop.  Bob Malloy crafted swaying bizarre stories & fables in a fake British accent as convincing as a perfectly fitting Toupée. But aside from 2002's unsung and virtually unheard Third Kingdom, all has been seemingly quiet in Fieldhands land.  But aha! They've only been slumbering, laying in wait writing and recording. Which brings us here.  Two brand new songs. One is a lively and scrappy, yet wistful anthem, perfect for hoisting a pint with the lads.  The other is a tender Ray Davies-ian ballad about a bearded lady.  Hey, you're the one who asked!