Edgar Allan Poets – Noir Rock Band | Ferryman is The Birdman Cult's New Single | Edgar Allan Poets
Ferryman is The Birdman Cult’s New Single | Edgar Allan Poets

Good Day Noir Family,
I already reviewed The Birdman Cult in the past but they are back with a new single Ferryman and I want to share my opinion about it.

Ferryman is The Birdman Cult’s New Single | Edgar Allan Poets

Are you ready for this ritual?

A musical journey that will open your mind. The rhythm will enter your blood and the truth will finally be in front of you.

This music is hypnotic, modern, and intriguing. I was already a fan of this band since the first time I listened to them.  With this song, they raised the bar.

In some moments the sound reminded me of the Kula Shaker’s atmosphere.

With Ferryman The Birdman Cult demonstrate their great compositional experience and their developed artistic taste. The construction of this song is intricate, and sophisticated and keeps you literally glued to the headphones.

The thing I like most about this musical project is the uniqueness of its sound. A band that has decided to follow his instinct to create something innovative.

Absolutely reconfirmed!

Ferryman is The Birdman Cult’s Single Out Now!


Ferryman is The Birdman Cult’s New Single | Edgar Allan Poets

While the town was sleeping Joseph B. Eden took to wandering the coast under the huge pale moon. A northern English beach rat whose roots would reach out to all things dank and subvert. Attracted to the glare of the unknown, he replants himself deep down south. Far from the post industrial wastelands, where he hears dreams are realised and streets are clad with gold. With no map home he finds himself lost in the city of Bristol on the muddy banks of the Avon, making a pittance peddling his crude poetry at local vaudeville shows for like minded misanthropes and undesirables.

They must come together as one force, unfurling from the undergrowths, face the sun, revel in the ugly and abrasive and stand to be counted. The air grows thick and madness settles in his bones, his higher purpose becoming more apparent moon to moon. Each evening more fevered than the last. He cannot complete his manifesto alone, a bird wheels above, cries and shits and epiphany on his shoulder from its mighty cloaca. Meanwhile south of the river, four familiars are talking obnoxiously over blown out speakers long into the small hours. Wookash, Otis, Hawk and Elo are pummelling their next vision into shape: can a rock and roll band rely solely on fuzzy riffs, driving bass lines, infectious vocals and rattling beats without the tired handle of post-punk tedium? There’s a tapping at the window… The Birdman has come.

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