In the American Deep South during the 1930s, two black men are hung for allegedly raping a white woman. Their case becomes a symbol for justice miscarrying and they go down in history as the Alabama 2. Over half a century later in South London, the son of a Welsh Mormon preacher meets the offspring of a Glaswegian trades unionist at an underground acid house party and they embark upon the mischievous miscegenation of Hank Williams, Gospel and Acid House. Expanding in the mid 90s into a Brixton based collective, they called themselves ALABAMA 3 and continue to be one of the most joyous, righteous, provocative and inspirationally delinquent bands Britain has ever spawned.

Whoever it was they met that sulphurous night at the cultural crossroads, they've been working hard on behalf of Alabama 3. The likelihood of a crew of miscreant, theo-pharmalogical, neo-situationist, holy music junkies floating high in the anaemic river of mass entertainment, was never realistically that great. Yet, come the new millennium, the band are lodged firmly in both subculture and mainstream.

‘The songs are catchy, witty and poignant to everyone, but especially those over 30 who have retired from the drink, drugs and hell raisin’ of their youth. And oh my God! What's that? A subtle vein of Socialism running below the surface of that Country, acid house, Gospel, dance, blues. Yes, it really is a unique and original sound…. please don’t mention the Sopranos anymore. There’s no need. They are an entity all by themselves’.

Bruce Darby, review of Edinburgh Fringe Gig.