Box Hill
Nothing Matches the Glory of a Bad British Picnic
As long as there is breath in my body and ants in my gusset I shall have my picnics surrounded by dog-chewed tennis balls and rusting bottle tops, feasting on half-crushed Twiglets beneath a dusty British sun.
Cool Sounds Are About to Drop the First Great Pop Album of 2015
This is pop that's as smooth as pureed pears.
Fucked Up’s Jonah Falco Gets His Soft Side On With Lonely Wholesome
His new record comes from Toronto's East End via Box Hill.
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