The Story of Front de Bouef

Its been a rainy day, driving through the forgotten wastelands of Sweden. The car reminded me that it was time for a break, the engine started coughing and the gas meter tapped the letter "E". I pulled over at the next town, the signs told me that I ended up in Gimo.
"Oh perfect", I thought. My life as an A&R was hanging on a thin line. My latest discovery "Tierp Gunz", a band consisting of the sons of the famous hard metal group "220 Volt", ended up in the garbage cans in every record store in Sweden. And now I have to find a gas station in Gimo, a place that is known for its high suicide rate and where tractor pulling is considered a potential Olympic discipline.
Anyway, I filled up the car and went to get something to eat. The local pizzeria "Gimo pizzeria" was obviously the place for me.
Half way through my"Hawaii without anananass" two strange looking fellas entered the diner. At once they started mocking and bullying the other customers. Words like "Bondlurks" and "Fårpederaster" flew through the musty air. The waiter didn't seem to mind, he almost looked used to it. He gave the two strange looking fellas two beers and they sat down at the table next to mine.
I finished my meal and I inevitable overheard their conversation. They talked about music and nothing but music. They talked about music in words that I haven't heard in a very long time. Music can change the world and the two strange looking fellas reminded me of something I neglected and forgot: Music can change the world and lives of many.
I couldn't leave Gimo without talking to them, so I took courage and said:
"Excuse me fellas, I couldn't avoid overhear your conversation. You guys reminded me of what music is all about. I work at a big record label, I would like to offer you a great record deal right here and right now."
They looked at me, and then looked at each other, took a zip of the beer and one of them opened his mouth and said:
"Faggot!" and started to laugh. But I didn't give up.
"C'mon, I'm for real. Here is my card, gimme a call or send me anything you've recorded."
"Yeah right", the chatty one said, "Maybe after World War III". They got up and left the joint.
After this fulfilling conversation I took the car and went back to Stockholm. I couldn't forget the two strange looking fellas and their thoughts about music. I quit my job and started working at a record store.
Suddenly a sunny day in November last year I received a package containing a CD and a short letter. It was from the two strange looking fellas, they wrote:
"Here is our story about a cowboy who shot a man in Kentucky. Don't try to find us, if you do we will send our friend Sleggan, he will break your bones.
Maybe we will send you some other stuff if you're lucky.
Best regards, Jonas/Ulf - Front de Bouef."

That's all I know about them, the two strange looking fellas names are Jonas and Ulf. So people, prepare yourself for the next musical revolution.
I give you Front de Bouef.

Bert Hansson
Former A&R