It’s a story about humpback whales. They live in every ocean. They are gregarious animals, evolving in the depths of salty water. Small community. Groups of ten, fifteen individuals singing weird songs in the dark. They are like rock bands sharing a place to rehearse. The Vivian Girls are not Vivian Girls. They are another bunch of humpback whales swimming in a different ocean. They are another trio rocking in a different town. The possibilities of langage are not infinite; the combinations of its letters have their limits. Sometimes, somewhere, someone has the same idea, chooses the same juxtaposition of letters. Despite a few funny confusions along the road related to their recognized homonymous, The Vivian Girls were providing a highly energized and sexualized rock all over Europe. Their music was an electrified, cheerful bacchanal. A noisy, colored, frantic feast where people met and drunk and fucked and forgot. Everyday life’s boredom was fading away and we were becoming happy humpack whales space-swim-singing in the dark… Happy aliens space rock / Cetacean’s Bop / Viva Lost Vegas Parano