About Monkey Fighters…

Monkey Fighters have been at the forefront of dental care in Latvia for five generations and are a household name across the baltic states. From humble beginnings in a woodsman’s hut deep in the forests near Sigulda, where clear streams run chuckling through mossy glades and swallows flit nimbly between the tall pines, where a red-shirted lumberjack strides homeward with pockets full of loganberries and, dangling from a string looped across his shoulders, two jackrabbits for the pot, tended in the warm glow of the fireside by his wife, Anna, who dreams still of the glowing streets of Riga where the buildings rise tall above her, adorned with grotesque stone faces, half-clothed mermaids, and many fantastical beasts, and where brightly painted streetcars carry a myriad of passengers – the cloth-capped old man, his gnarled fingers gripping his cane tightly as if it were about to slither from him like a grass-snake; the young lovers, with eyes only for each other; two smartly dressed office-workers, gossiping shamelessly; the young mother consoling a wailing infant while a little girl tugs at her sleeve, momentarily forgetting the melting ice cream in her hand, the sticky drops falling to the seldom-mopped floor of the tram as it weaves its way through the cobbled streets, now swinging right, now left; now disgorging workers to tend the chattering and ever-hungry machines of the factories, now pausing opposite fashionable shop-fronts to take on giggling girls laden with bright-coloured bags proclaiming the exotic names of their purchases, imported from distant cities on ships that carve through the rolling waves on their way to the port of Riga full of much-anticipated wares, which will be eagerly plucked from their cargo-holds by the spindly hands of steel giants arrayed along the quayside, before returning again to foreign shores with timber cut by the hand of a red-shirted lumberjack, with berries plucked from the forests near Sigulda, where clear streams run chuckling through mossy glades and swallows flit nimbly between the tall pines.

Please, come breathe with us the fresh forest air and let these juicy berries linger awhile on your tongue.

How it started…

Monkey Fighters started out as a jam session in a public house in Pucklechurch, where the future members of the band found themselves establishing a rapport as solid as the groove emanating from their battered instruments. As the tempo increased and rhythms became more frenzied, the five musicians realised that they really had something, and as they would all prefer to keep it intact, they followed the landlord’s instructions and left the building.
Monkey Fighters had been birthed. 

How it all came to be…

Monkey Fighters started out as a flash-mob in a car park just out the back of the Poundstretcher in Shepton Mallet; coincidentally, all five members of the mob had been on their way to rehearsals for other bands and the impromptu jam that developed lead to instant friendship, the bare bones of three new songs, and a noise abatement order. Overcoming this initial setback, Monkey Fighters went on to record their first album, from which these tracks are taken.

How it all began…

Monkey Fighters started out as a firm of carpet insurance brokers in Pucklechurch. The credit crunch brought austerity to South Glos. and business diversification became the order of the day. Eschewing the more obvious options open to them and declining to pick any low-hanging fruit, either metaphorically or locally, Monkey Fighters moved into the prog-punk-grunge field, swapping Axminsters for Telecasters and deep pile for fat riffs. The upshot was a song or ten, and here is those (some).

How it began…

It all came together when guitarist Emilio “Fingers” Valentine met bass-player Jeff “Whenever-You-Like” Randall in a laundrette on the corner of 52nd and Chichester; Jeff was couch-surfing temporarily at the apartment of drummer Long “Tim” Poslin and had stepped out to rinse some cloths. A mixup with some pin-striped underpants led to a mid-sized brawl, a visit to hospital to reset a broken finger, and a small-claims court summons for a clogged tumble-drier, but ultimately also to the writing of the song, “Pork Conundrum”. Shockwaves from this momentous evening rippled across the Atlantic to England, where in a Denmark Street basement Monkey Fighters were finishing their album. The rest is history.