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This is the story of a band named sultan. Not yet known for their progressive superalternative easylistenin’ 'i'm-goin'-to-rebuild-my-house-in-a-fashionable-way' kind of rock. Inspired by, and trying to become, true artists. It all began when two little boys met at a small festival. They instantaneously bonded over their shared indifference towards the main act. In short, it was the beginning of a lasting friendship. It quickly turned out they had a thing or two in common: they both admired all things with strings, loved old-fashioned rock artists with moustaches, and believed in only one true purpose in their lives: making music. It was on. All they did was play and record in an old garage. They produced and selected tunes like hot cakes, staying true to Darwin’s law: only the strong survive. So much so, that they realized – about five years later – they actually didn't know anything about each other. Did it matter? Not really. Music was all that mattered. Something was missing though. They were searching for the missing link, searching like Morpheus for the one that would complete their incomplete trio of two musicians. One perfect stranger that could pull the boys back in reality by saying: “I’m sorry but what you’re playing’s simply not tight enough.” But hark! This Messiah came along and luck was on its way in the shape of a tall, lanky, blonde drummer. Result? sultan was born. Today, the raggedy-ass garage is still their haven, their musical domain. Nothing much has changed, apart from one thing: they’re getting better and better. Playing records that make the devil blush. A single is on its way. And their very first E.P. is in the making. Curious? Click here and find out what’s on. You won’t regret it.