Callum, Melusine and Al play in a band with no name, baffling audiences in terrible pubs across the north-east of England with their ? sound' and occasionally reaching the dizzy heights of 97 viewers on their livestreams. To say they are losers would be to imply they were in the race in the first place. But they believe in their music, and in each other.
Their songs tell the stories of the Solkats: fictional northern gods of small things, mishap and mayhem. However, when an act of violence at a pub gig goes viral they catch the eye of a disillusioned influencer and suddenly go from having a cult following to having a cult, following.
All the Solkats want, Callum insists, is to have effect on the world. But as fans from LA to Australia and everywhere in between flock to Northumberland, and each gig becomes larger and more lawless than the last, this effect starts to feel scarily. . . real. And if they really do exist, which is it more dangerous to anger: a wayward group of elder gods, or your biggest fans? Because gods and cults both demand sacrifices. And one way or another, they're going to get one. . .
