The great shame when LostAlone split in 2014 was that we were losing a band uniquely brilliant. Somehow appearing both entirely self-aware and almost naive at the same time, their dedication to rock’s most OTT impulses were matched by these three Derbyshire nerds’ innate, genius ability to pull it all together in an explosion of Queen-ish pageantry, apparently without realising how larger than life they actually were – a band of the purest dreams and rock fantasies, unsullied by pretension and conceit. It’s like they watched the end of Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey and went: “Yeah, that”. Mainman Steven Battelle often looked like a man who, having perfected things in front of a mirror with a tennis racquet, had picked up the coolest-looking guitar he co...
