Welcome, one an all, welcome. Welcome to this the humble cyber-abode of The Ghost of Lemora, a brief insight into our world.But what exactly is our world? What secrets lie within? I once had the honour of hearing Swifty define it thus, before last orders were called and he disappeared like a flash (he's good at that):
"it is a melodramatic, multi-faceted universe of cataclysms, cities rising, empires falling; of hearts, minds and souls broken beyond repair; of long dead film stars, failed movie directors, alcoholics, gamblers and writers. Overlooking this vast phantasmagorical landscape is Lemora herself and she has been dead the longest. But that's another story....."
Pure unadulterated genius or the utter pretentious nonsense? Whatever your viewpoint, whether you consider yourself Lemoric or not, all will be explained in time.
Naturally Sonya, Stuart and myself have our own concepts, our own take on the Lemora world, as should you.
Lemora's legendary curse was first felt by Swifty, a prolific but somewhat silly tunesmith, possessing a cynicism bred from judging people by his own shaky standards. Swifty was staggering through a late night Soho drinkerie when he first spied Twinkle, a pretentious mincing fop who danced like a whore (but could safely be introduced to your parents). Initially, Twinkle told Swifty to "BUGGER OFF!", and his stubborness was great. But greater still was Swifty's tenacity and his determination not to take no reply for an answer. Hence, once Twinkle had mastered which end of a microphone was for singing into, he was soon exorcising his inner demons over Swifty's tunes. Some weeks passed and a distinct lack of meaty bass was noted. Then Stuart arrived. Mean, lean and, well, sort of keen, he injected his intense veracity into the bands sound. He also threatened to beat them up...He was in. Then Hark, what next? In the blinking of a black cat's eye, Sonya prowled into the Lemora "studio". She purred, "I can do better than that!", "Prove it" they replied. And she did. She, aslo, was in. The drummer remains an enigma; they have tried a few ("What is twat?") and don't seem to like it. The reason is simple: they just don't like it. So alas, they are still searching for the ultimate piece of the Lemora puzzle, but at present the drummer is Larry, the little black box. The Ghost of Lemora are more than mere recording artists. They are a way of thinking, a sense of being. Collectively beautiful yet individually nauseating, the perfect Lemora person is so delicately well balanced they have a chip on both shoulders. In short, if you don't like the music, then go back to where you were last night.....unless of course it's your round....