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This royal lilt of kings, this sceptred garage, this twang of majesty, this sound of Twiz, this other Beatles, more fabulous four, this band made by Muse-icians for themselves against the trite and the ears of woe, this happy breed of men, this magic world, this precious group set in a creative mess which serves it in the office and at home or as a case of beer essential to a binge, against the banality of less hippier bands, this blessed combo, this puka biz, these guys, this Twiz.
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