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Thank You George is not a band. It’s a conversation.

You’re out late, you had one, two, three too many, you know you should head home. But there’s this tiny bar just around the corner. So… whatever. You walk in and find three dudes sitting at the bar. “I’ll have what they’re having”. You sit down and you don’t do names.

At first, the room is drenched is silence. Then there is a riot. And then it is all a cloud. It is deep talk, as confusing and as honest, as true and as heavy, as complex and as confusing as the maze that is this life. This conversation offers no escape. No shortcut. No solution.

Only minor chords and loop machines. Glass-half-empty lyrics and epic endings. Profound melancholy and a pretentious, splendid, meandering too much. After a while it’s all a blur. And you are right there in the middle of it all, with your heavy eyes, listening, talking, drowning, melting.

When you make it back out on the street the first light is already sugarcoating the windows of the upper floors. You know that nothing has changed. And still everything has. Tonight you didn’t need to be saved. You needed to not be alone when facing things the way they were.

Thank You George is not a band. It’s an invitation to be heard. To pour your heart out to a bunch of strangers. To get lost in their music. To come home, fall asleep, all talked out and empty. And to wake up, some time in the early afternoon, with a slanted smile upon your face.