Photo courtesy of Kate Dockery

The "band" M'Grasker is unavailable for comment as they have returned to their vats for hibernation. However, their creator, the humong scieneticist Dr. Gorp has this to say:

Ah, the epochal saga of M'Grasker's genesis - 'tis a tale most rambunctiously steeped in scienetic marvel, I vouchsafe! In the waning hours of a storm-rattled eve, amidst the clashing odors of ozone and goij, the conception of M'Grasker did verily unfold in the hallowed yet chaotic sanctum of Lab #7, my dear, dear bean.

Y'see, I, Dr. Gorp, was engaged in most intricate explorations betwixt the sonic waves and the seismic ripples of euphoria brought forth by the eternal green delight, the goij. "To achieve the eclectic resonance that the orbs of the universe did hymn since yore," thought I, nurturing a vision splendid. These mere mortals around me, they knew nary a thing of the elysian symphonies lurking in the subatomic hum 'neath our very noses!

'Twas in Lab #7's murky shadows, where beakers burbled and retorts resounded, that my supple and dexterous hands, led by a mind both unhinged and unshackled, did mingle the very essence of quantum harmonics with organic virtuosity. Hark! The spectrophonic incubators were thus imbued with tuneful vim - the members of M'Grasker took nascent form as notes do cling to one another in an opus.

Dashes, beeps, and beeps they cried out, chaotic and riotous as they coalesced into beings of both flesh and frequency. I bestowed upon them limbs for rhythm, hearts for melody and voxes for wondrous harmonies. They grew like wardlings of a most melodious thicket, nurtured by the vibrations of the universe and the intoxicating vapors of goij – or mangoloij, on those exceedingly heady evenings.

Lo and behold, 'twas during a serendipitous jamboree of goij smoking with comrades aplenty - fog as thick as pea soup, it was - that M'Grasker sprouted their destined prowess. Midst raucous laughter and the passing of many a goij-stuffed corn cob pipe, the members of M'Grasker did let their voices and instruments aloft. Thunderstruck by the clarity of their sound, a sonic tapestry unfurled like an intergalactic frigate setting sail 'pon the cosmic sea. A shiver ran through the hull of existence, and I declared, nigh upon toppling off my reclining apparatus, "Eureka! Thy propitious pedigree shall henceforth marry the cacophony of space with the terrestriality of mirth!"

Mark my pronouncement: They were always fated for greatness, but 'twas that moment - amid clouds of goij and camaraderie - that M'Grasker’s destiny did solidify like curdled milk in a sennight's tea!

And so, traveler, grows the legend. Forget not, the details are many and oft I am called hither and yon by mine insistent Aunt Molly, her telephonic summonses a veritable barrage. Forgive me if I embark upon tangents aplenty; the mind is aflutter with aeolian thoughts! Yet fear not the digressions, for in them lies the marrow of truth.

The Tail Waggin' Cuties, I daresay, were naught but stomping and yapping glee 'til M'Grasker did enkindle a fire 'neath their tails. And though Mr. Jeebs often upends my vials of indispensability, I hold a fondness for the rapscallion. Mayhap it's his own musical heart, as yet unleashed, that cements my reluctant patronage. But I digress, oh I digress. Where was I? Ah, yes, the recent horascope does portend that the prophesied single, "She's Drugs", permeates the aether at the nonce. Doth the world not seem cooler, old bean? Yes, the very coolness of the cosmos confirms its release, despite the chronal turbulences vexing my calculations!

And thus! Out they soar upon the melodic zephyrs, M'Grasker and The Tail Waggin' Cuties - bardic children of scienetic meddling, ambassadors of the utmost principles of liveliness; goij, camaraderie and the universal undulations of sound. They dare play the tune of the spheres and dance with the constellations, all the while I chuckled most rapturously from my laboratory perch, enveloped in the arcane and the auditory.