Soul'd out

Zardoz Zed have been fifteen years from their big break for fifteen years. Named after Sean Connery's most questionable costume choice, armed with a back catalogue that includes a concept EP defending a misunderstood barbarian villain and a nine-minute tribute to Sean Connery that their guitarist insists is not what it sounds like, and pursued across three counties by the legal team of ZZ Top Entertainment LLC, they are the greatest band nobody has ever heard of. When a sold-out comeback tour ends at the Dog and Trumpet — eleven people, one golden retriever, one cease and desist — frontman Christopher Gaylord does what he always does: pivots to destiny. One final gig. The Galaxy's big room. Five thousand people. All they have to do is get there in five days with no money, no working van, and no plan beyond Christopher's absolute certainty that this time is different. Also they sold their souls at a crossroads at midnight. But that part was fine. Phenyl'phrin — Grade Seven Soul Acquisition Officer, five souls from promotion — considered them an easy mark. He was wrong about this in ways that will require extensive supplementary documentation. Soul'd Out is a road novel, a deal-with-the-devil comedy, and a love story about a band that has no business believing in itself. They believe in themselves anyway. This is probably the problem. It is definitely the solution.