This is the story of the milltown brothers meteoric rise and 'much ignored' demise. It's the story of a good band that got very lucky and then got very unlucky. More broadly it demonstrates the role luck plays in all our lives, every thought, breath and movement impacting on the way our futures unfold, however much we like to think we're in control. The first performance by any of the milltown brothers took place in the early summer of 1975 in the garage of the Nelson family home in Colne, Lancashire to the audience of Mum and Dad, and a neighbour. The band, charmingly named Cold Meat comprised elder brother and band Svengali Mark Nelson on lead guitar and vocals. Simon Nelson and neighbour Andy Marsden on drums. And Sarah and Matthew Nelson on air guitar. It was a 12-bar blues jam according to Mark. It's not clear what it was to Sarah or Matthew. This isn't a story about sex, drugs and rock n roll. It's much more interesting than that. The milltown brothers from Burnley in the north west of England were discovered by Steve Lamacq playing their fifth gig at the Bull & Gate in London in May 1988. Signed to A&M in 1990 for a £100,000 advance, they had a publishing deal with EMI and their debut album Slinky was awarded 5 stars in Q magazine - one of just three Q magazine gave during 1991. Not only did Jesus (William Gellert, known as Jesus, who, from the 1960s to the early 2000s, went to gigs all over London, dancing in a completely unhinged way and often naked) dance at least twice with the milltown brothers, Oasis supported them less than a year before the release of Definitely Maybe. Two years earlier, when they shared the bill with Nirvana and others in Boston, the day before Nirvana released the paradigm changing Nevermind in September 1991, the promoter described their performance as the event highlight. Relentlessly touring the UK, Europe, America and Japan they were on the cusp of global success... only to gloriously snatch utter anonymity from the jaws of immortality. AUTHOR: Nigel Wood, a former brand and marketing creative director, lives in Slaithwaite in West Yorkshire. He is mildly obsessed with how life is just an infinitesimal number of slender slices of luck. He's now a writer and a sculptor of driftwood and unloved stuff.