My Love a Definition My Love a Definition My Love: A Definition
My Dear Killer + The Fog In The Shell
A Waitress, A Slumber
This songs were recorded at MafarKa Box using a mono tape cassette recorded (Sanyo Mod. 2551) approximatly in June 2002. The original tape is not dated, the record reported the 10th which might be correct. Intentioanlly these recordings were simply ment to be an audio memo of songs that were composed at the time. Finding them a small but nice coherent ensamble, I passed copies of the tapes over to a couple of friend, including Marco of the The Fog In The Shell, with whom at the time we were (still are) running the newly born Under My Bed Recorded. He has the idea of combining the short My Dear Killer set, which took the name, My Love: A waitress with few spare recordings of The Fog In the Shell (My Love: A Slumber) together, in what appeared as an EP, featuring the two bands and called, My Love: A Definition
In the process he also overdubbed the drums on "On The Track" a song that feaured in the Mixed Tapes Kept Under My Bed Compilation.
Both, the compilation and the EP have been re-released in 2008 by UMB with a restyled graphic design on CDr and are available directly at from the label website.

The right to ask The Right to Ask
On The Track On The Track
The Football Player
The football player The Archivist
The Archivist
Song for M Song for M.
Song for E Song for E.
Song for A.M.
Song for AM Sorry (Live)
Sorry
My Dear Killer, My Love:A Waitress
We are all strangers in this city. I guess you are, because of your accent. Serving at the table is not your cup of tea either. Annoying customers. Tedious landlords. Cheap music from the loudspeakers and regrettable regulars, like us. The habit of a of weekly visit, just passed five o'clock, like going to mass. The site of an unsung pilgrimage, because I like the ungraceful way you moved to the crammed up table. And how you regularly managed to serve me something I did not ask for. But I never complained. You vanished as you came and we have sung the rimes of different hymns, knowing that you did not belong there. Not even this town of ten millions, several hundred thousands pubs and bar and restaurants and clubs and bed-sits. Somewhere, sometimes, a better tea is brewing.

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