Tank! plays the seam where cultures meet — occupation-era jazz, port-town standards, and the radio static in between. Recorded in a room that used to be a customs hall.
Nine cuts recorded live to tape between the last ferry and the first light.
The band plays the room like a rumor — half American, half somewhere else, all of it after midnight.
Tank! came together in a port town where the radio picked up two countries at once. What comes out is bebop bleeding into bossa nova, exotica smuggled through a military-base transmitter, reconstruction-era cabaret with the lights kept low.
Catch us on the bill this autumn, or wait for the pressing. Either way, the room will be warm and the set will be short.
Tickets at the door. Everything else by mail — we answer between sets.