Garbage

WILD LUCK, cynical suspicion, deep fraternal love and dodgy Scottish accents: in the true life story of a musical group called Garbage all these things play a part. Right now, however, as the band ticks through the hours preceding their sold-out gig in New York’s vast Roseland ballroom, the over-riding theme is tiredness. Not just ordinary, mortal, hit-the-pillow-and-shake-some-zzzs tiredness, but the sore-boned, mushy-brained, couldn’t-sleep-if-I-had-time-to variety: true exhaustion, the kind that kills you.