STOLEN POLICECAR started spring 2004. The members have all been buddies and pals for a long time and talk about doing some music together was put into action. The result is a heavy, intense and elegant mix of rock, punk & metal. Displaying the members diverse musical backgrounds of grunge, alternative rock and death metal. Even though this might as well be the hottest new shit since I don´t know when. This band really sucks at marketing themselves. - So if you hear about a show or something go check it out!           Lars Lörnell - Drums: Has the same attitude towards playing music as to taking a shit: - It is something you just have to do. - No choice. Mostly it stinks, but once in a while it can be really good, but no-one else appreciates it.     Petri Nenonen - Guitar: The slacker king. Has his own breeding hive where he is creating an army: - A new generation of degenerated slacker worker bees and queen wasps ready to drop out on the world. Unchallenged in terms of long-lasting, never-stopping overall slackiness. Expert on getting into trouble and out again without any visible damage.     Marcus Högfeldt - Vocals/guitar: One of the few survivors of the great old mythological grunge monsters. All the real ones are supposed to be extinct but somehow by spending time in the most obscure corners of the most obscure bars and couches, far away from the rest of the computerized world, this one can still be spotted out there alive and kicking. Almost an urban legend.     Magnus Olsfelt - Bass: "Please allow me to introduce myself. I´m a man of wealth and taste. I´ve been around for a long, long years. Stole many a man´s soul and faith. And I was around when Jesus Christ, had his moment of doubt and pain. Made damn sure that Pilate, washed his hands and sealed his fate. I stuck around St. Petersburg, when I saw it was a time for a change. Killed the czar and his ministers. Anastasia screamed in vain. I rode a tank, held a general´s rank, when the blitzkrieg raged and the bodies stank. I watched with glee while your kings and queens fought for ten decades for the gods they made. I shouted out; -Who killed the Kennedys? When after all, it was you and me. And I laid traps for the troubadours, who get killed before they reach Bombay. Just as every cop is a criminal and all the sinners saints. As heads is tails just call me Lucifer ´cause I´m in need of some restraint. So if you meet me: Have some courtesy, have some sympathy, and some taste. Use all your well-learned politesse, or I´ll lay your soul to waste. Pleased to meet you. Hope you guessed my name. But what´s puzzling you is the nature of my game. I tell you one time, you´re to blame." - Or to cut it short: This is a real pretentious bastard.