Andi Fins

Life is not a goodie bag. No love, but glitter, little sun, but lots of light: spat out from the strange place, landed directly in the midday heat on the IKEA parking lot, the props man staggers the musical backdrops of Andi Fins with melancholy instead of dystopia. Between Paris and Tokyo, the sound magic of the band called Andi lurks, with the lost closeness in the glory of burning heavens being hymns to love. In times of vibrating light, a charge of ice spray is enough to cool the hottest start-up type.

With Andi Fins, despair has become entangled in leather guitars and crushing tastes like cola on ice. Just as even colorful birds need gray pigeons to make a glamorous departure, Andi Fins lets his wicked ease prevail over the grief. Because life is not a goodie bag. It is a stereo paradise. Any more questions? Don't call me, I'll call you soon.