Dreamwavepatterns by Humble Grumble

As vision belongs to the music, only this following little Humble CV can explain the sphere this recording creates;

A HUMBLE CV

So the story begins with an idea that floats in a timeless void in space desperaty searching for the right host so that it can manifest itself into the material, after having waited from the beginning of time it grows impatient until finally on August 26th 1998 at 14 .23 precisely on the river Tisza in Hungary it had finally found its home or should I say homes.

It suddenly realized that it had to split itself up into two different parts. 1st part being Sound the second being Vision and there they were the perfect hosts ripe and ready to be plucked for the materialization into a living form .The first host being Humble Gabor "Sound", the second being Humble Gawayne "Vision" The idea was so happy to have at last found it's home, it was swelling and coloring itself with glee, over flooded secret mountain caves, made enchanted lovebirds begin to tap-dance with desire and most of all, it created the swing to rock the world into the 21st century ! ! !

So the next part after having conceived itself into the minds of Gabor and Gawayne it had to develop itself for it to a state of readiness for its birth, in the head of Gabor it did not stop playing it's incessant tunes, 'till the point this poor Hungarian hit the final border of his happiness, blew right over it to a higher sphere and got for ever and ever overjoyed. Gawayne was throwing colored paint in front of his frenchlikebritish, uncertainbutworthabucket face all day and all night until he just had to pick up that paint brush and start spreading the colors of a decent rainbow into an indecent expression of imagination.

Despite these two Humble figures althrough their history on earth neglected to develop any sense of reality defined by the inhabitance of their planet, still able to feed every good heart with bioelectric laughing shockwaves, by which this planet keeps on turning in the correct direction.

And there it was, a complete creation, the little tykes grinning as if those billions of years we wasted on evolution were coming back to happen three times a day, so that we all laugh at ourselves while keep falling off the tree back into the sea, swim out, climb back up and try to get the dry land on the other side singing "hope".

Red Tyke fast & witty

Yellow Tyke Greedy

Green Tyke sloooowwww and easy ohhhhhhh

Big Croc & Manic mite watch out they bite

Humble starfucker Too horny to be an astronaut

Old Bill on his best trip yet Oh would u look at that! ! !

Pukeman Everything he likes he eats it five times

So there are the fist creations of the "Humble family"

And a fine bunch of dweebs I must say or play

But the idea still wanted more, never contented fully with itself and them always searching for missing links into the captured rapture world that is needed for the very sanity of human life, if such thing exists as nobody has seen it yet.

And then "Spermy" spilled out of a giant cock and was also looking for a place called home, somewhere nice and warm preferably at 39°c and most possibly it will fertilize every joyful soul into the humble spirit. Spermy likes rhythm banging its head into the bass drum every now and then to make sure the power takes longer than an hour, a little sweet and sower rockin' woo it in ya Womb!

So there again the Humble family was getting bigger and bigger, grumbling of love burps, smelling like burnt tires, but still the idea was not contented and he knew that

There were still certain entities missing and started rummerging in the head again to search for solutions.

Scratch, Scratch, rumble rumble, ping ping and what else should be willing to appear but a submarine rising above from bellow the rending podium of the ego-tripping Humble Grumble musicians soon enough as the atmosphere turns rather watery, deep as a hallucination about the monster of Lochness which sings Russian communistic marchingsongs translated into Irish, (We respect good traditions), and who should be in this massive sea craft? "Dicky Albert!" The Grumpy Old Fart from up North, who's looking for his wife and we must admit, she's still swimming around horny in that lake not that far from Heaven, and despite Dicky never gives in to the realization of how close he is to a Total enlightment on his journey, the band keeps on swinging ignoring the lost submarine. Yes, Dicky Albert, the miserable old sod ever complaining what is around him at the time, who needs a high pressure airbrush to blow the dry grapes out of his rectum once a year, is still a true hearted fellow and should be told that the certain lake he's looking for is in the opposite direction.

The Gang was complete and we stayed roaming fantasies with a wineless mind of the Hairy Fairies, Gooks, Tykes, Dweebs and Sinners and all that is needed for a Humble jazzy, rocky, funky Band to sparkle the spirits precisely at the time our Humble little tale is being told to magnify and behold the family of a non-religious rebirth commandos crashing recklessly into the explosive butthole of the 21st Century's audience.

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