Gjutjärn

The cold hit harder than ever that day. Galt is walking slightly bent forward to avoid the worst wind gusts. Contemporary testimonies say ”of merriment there was none”.
His thoughts circled around new cast iron, as an attempt to gain some warmth. Galt screams at the storm, a futile attempt to get even. In the midst of the raging blizzard, two enormous silhouettes become barely visible. Two wanderers, despite the cold, who have both the gaul and strength, not to just shout at the storm, but also waving their arms wildly around. The two men, dressed in rags and chains, Garm and Strävbjörn (escaped serfs it would turnout) decide to, after a flare up, join Galt in his shouting at the storm and thinking about newly cast iron.

Then, as the three are shouting their worst, the storm culminating and the chains break from the cold, they see a bright shining light in the far distance. Is it the northern lights?
With an aura from 17 years of living the rock´n roll myth, dressed in silver, hat, boots and a Strat on his back, Lesley Foxx has in some strange way travelled through time and space, and is now walking firmly through the snow towards the others, who studies the newly arrived man with a fair degree of mistrust.
With a close bitten face the man hisses, ”I fucking dig vinyl”.
This incident took place long before wax rolls and the crank-up phonograph, so a certain amount of confusion arises. After some hard words, mockery and measuring of strength there is acceptance. Now they are four. Four men with a common goal. Four men who will do anything to shout down the storm. A power trio is born.