MPM

Roll over. Your face down in a cheap pillow.....It's Sunday..... sun creeping through shoddy blinds...hungover..throat like razor blades....Put on some coffee and head to your record player.What are you going to turn to as you dream of the 'Underground' and remember how you achieved the scrawled phone number on your right hand?You hand pick MPM from your collection and light your cigarette.Welcome....It is a pleasure to have you here. You will receive your uniform shortly. New boots, a new j...

Roll over. Your face down in a cheap pillow.....It's Sunday..... sun creeping through shoddy blinds...hungover..throat like razor blades....Put on some coffee and head to your record player.What are you going to turn to as you dream of the 'Underground' and remember how you achieved the scrawled phone number on your right hand?You hand pick MPM from your collection and light your cigarette.Welcome....It is a pleasure to have you here. You will receive your uniform shortly. New boots, a new jacket, sunglasses and pocket full of attitude.You won't need to run anymore. Relax.Take your time. Argue though...speak upWatch your brother's and sisters as they fail to make themselves happy. Watch your friends pretend to be your friends.But remember to dance. The dance of an uncoordinated soul....caught in the moment. But what moment?What the hell are you doing here anyway?You just want to know who the hell MPM is right?One man. One man from the dark streets of Melbourne, Australia. Mitch McIvor. Armed with a guitar, voice and a swag full of tunes.Puff on your pipe, put down your novel, impress your lover and enjoy MPM........