Four men in a rehearsal space. Four men become five and then four again. Four men who meet up every sunday for more than a decade. Four men stops seeing each other every sunday and records a record instead. That means that they are seeing each other during the whole weekends instead. Together with the producer Björn Stegmann they project all the love they have for music onto tape and try to do it as noiseless as possible. When it turns out that they’ve succeeded too well they fuzz it up, but not so much that you can really hear it, just enough to remind them about the sound of carriges rolling back and forth loaded with freshly baked bread from the bakery next to their rehearsal space, the sound that has become synonymous with sundays, fingers sticky from sweet pastry and the smell of the unnameable from the bottoms of beercans which no one knows when were opened. In spite the men having gone through a lot during the time that has passed since the band was formed, the sound still resembles a collage over how it always has sounded. From sheer pop over americana, landing in pacey rock, It’s time to be leaving now.