eight rhythm-box infected, organ and bassoon fuelled wild remixes by the one and only center of the universe. mr. moriarty's pop-pearls are being seriously reconfigured, paradigm- shifted and copernically rotated.

8 MP3 Songs
FOLK: Power-folk, ELECTRONIC: Pop Crossover



Details:
Magnus Moriarty⢠vs. Center of the Universe
Did you order a Radar?

Sign here please... readable... Thank you! Wonder how we got along for all these years without one... Eight rhythm-box infected, organ and bassoon fuelled wild remixes by the one and only Center of the Universe. Mr. Moriarty's pop-pearls are being seriously reconfigured, paradigm- shifted and Copernically rotated. The result is Discoâ¢, violin-dub, sheer joy and hypermodern breakbeat-folk-mayhem to make your Radar spin until you wished that you didn't order it in the first place.

C e n t e r o f t h e U n i v e r s e

is situated on top of the flying carpet. Cruising over Africa and the West Indies, playing the bassoon whilst pressing the world into his old school computer.

Maps of distant territories blend with tunes from faraway spacecamps. Speedway fingers haunt the keys of the big Elka-organ lost and the little Elka-organ found.

With the haircut of a knight, he is said to resemble prince Valiant, and the word on the planet goes he will change his name to "Mall of Universal" when selling oud (sic), early 2064.

Until then, he will probably release another fivehundredandseventyfourtrillionrecords, all of them longer than the orient express and more complex than the patterns on the Peruvian plains.

M a g n u s M o r i a r t y â¢

Moriarty⢠rides his old German violin towards the outer spheres of the Northern sky. By his side, the ancient bouzouki strummer Ergo, humming and whistling his way through the galaxies. The Hawk, left in the corner, sad and abandoned, but 11 strings left. Organs and Jupiter fighter decks fold their hands. Tape recorders and old school sky-fi equipment buzz in pleasure under the gentle touch of them pilot fingers. Outside no summer. Outside all cold and dark. Theremin pleasures and ohs and ahs. Wait! We are picking up something on the radar. What can it be? It´s approaching rapidly! Hold on! It´s crashing into Denver now! There is nothing we can do.

Alas!...............

(silence)...........

Ergo, what is that sound? Ergo...?

Oh, them coffee nerves...Ergo, check that creepy space echo, will you?