Mäkkelä's Trash Lounge's lyrics & chords

The crackle and hiss of a lo-fi loop brings the barefoot giant to centre stage crouched in 70's wedding suit over the yellow Gretch Astro Jet. The sound of the guitar is delicate and brittle, like a vulture's cry on the desert breeze. From the dusty forgotten-towns of Americana, past the amber-glow alleys of Hamburg, through the vodka fuelled desolation of a Finish winter on to a Parisian wine-soaked terrace night - Makkela is the citizen of a decadent dim-lit world where beggars and troubadours are kings for a moment staring star-ward from the...read more