In a world where substance seems increasingly irrelevant and subtlety is a lost art, Andrew Richards' wry, soulful songs beg to be heard. Shouting with a whisper, rising above the din; Loud enough to make a man go hoarse. But don't feel bad; Not for And Richards. His tear-stained guitar will show him all the empathy he needs. When these world-weary songs of love, heartache and hallucination flow out of those fingers and into the strings of his instrument, all tears are dried and the day starts over.
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