Amongst the drunken and drug fuelled nights of wakefield city, where the glass cracks beneth your feet like fresh snow on a febuary winter morning, and the howling of deranged voices disturb the streets, echoing around the derelict buildings like a pack of starving wolves crying for survival. The blood stained flag stones that have witnessed too many fights and the cold drafty doorways where the tramps tend to lie, this is where new vinyl was born but not where they will die. New Vinyl till we die