The Rebounds

I know what you’re thinking: what am I reading? Why am I reading this? Should I stop? I probably have better things to do, but I’m invested now. Will the questioning end? Will they get to the point? Are The Rebounds so maniacal that they would have people read this whole bio just to wind up disappointed, uneducated, and over all confused, maybe even angry? Surely, they wouldn’t lead potential fans astray like that. Surely, there’s a method to the god-forsaken madness that now befalls me. My only hope is that the word count stops them from rambling on and on, but alas, like a airplane pilot thrown from his vessel and into the unforgiving sea, I now lurch and ebb with the waves, not a comforting caress, no, but a bitter and nauseating hurl from one patch of empty blue to another. With only a small inflatable life raft and meagre food supplies, I may die here, my flesh burned by the sun though crying for warmth, my lips begging for water while my eyes see nothing else. Surely, there is no god, for if there were yet a heaven, its ruler would smite The Rebounds, smite them with all holy vengeance and sparing no thought to their pain, for they are a wicked lot, all of them, even the enviously attractive rhythm section with their uncanny ability to end songs at the same time without even a glance.

Was I right or was I right? I’m a mind reader. Listen to the Rebounds, if you want. Come to show and say hi we’d love to meet you