She breathed heavily as she wiped the sweat off her forehead, straightened herself up and slowly took two steps back.
The sun was blazing on this beautiful June afternoon. She had to use her flat hand to shade her squinting eyes and actually see something.
There it was, her magnum opus in its entirety – a real masterpiece. She felt great. Filled with pride, peace and contentness.
In the same moment, the smogabord of feelings, induced by the pure sublimity of her achievement, suddenly flooding her entire body, were so overwhelming, that she uncontrollably bursted into a relieving mixture of crying and laughter.

After a long and exhausting but even so rewarding trip, MARO tiredly, but thoroughly self-contented, collapsed into the old creaky rocking chair on the front porch of her small, but super-cozy house on the beach.
The incessant chattering seagulls that settled down on the porch’s handrail, promptly cleared off, as MARO expertly popped open her well-earned beer.
Or was it that daunting rumble from the dark along the glowing purple-tinted evening sky, responsible for the gulls sudden depart?
Just before M∆RO finished his thought about the obviously wrong weather forecast this morning, another, even closer and louder rumble made M∆RO beer-spillingly cringe.
She stepped off the porch, to check the eerie rumbling noise’s source.
What she then saw, sent a blistering chill down her spine. She dropped the beer, while just standing there for a few seconds, paralyzed, eyes and mouth wide open, gazing into the distance.
Once recovered, she panicky rushed back into the house, where she frantically stuffed anything that looked promising enough, to extend her survival in the imminent, dark and uncertain future into her purple hiking backpack, lashed it all together and started running…

„What a fucked up day!“, Maro muttered to himself, as he was roaming about the streets, armed with a bottle of booze, when on top of it all, it started to pour.
„I could really use a diversion“, he thought, after almost passing the entrance of the only nightclub in town.
Digging around in the left pocket of his coat, revealed crumby leftover pieces of half a pill, which he promptly washed down with a determined gulp of his cheap hooch.
Maro shuddered, gently placed the half-full bottle on the sidewalk, wiped his face clean, with his sleeve and concentrated on appearing somewhat sober, while passing the bouncer.
Inside, he was repulsed by the swirling crowd of euphoric cheerful people.
Finally the attractive, but seemingly on the edge and miserable barmaid, got Maro the cocktail, he had ordered ages ago.
He offhandedly tossed the exact change on the counter and eagerly reached for the pleasantly decorated drink, which he expected to ease his frustration.
But just before Maro s shaky hand touched the glass, the fellow right next to him jumped to a sweeping turn to greet his buddy.
Unfortunately Maro s object of desire was in the range of motion of this testosterone driven salutatorian choreography, performed by these two party animals, and was ruggedly swept off the counter.
Annoyed even more by their slurred apology, Maro uttered a „F**k it!“ and turned around to face the dancefloor and watch the hustle and bustle.
Suddenly the feverish swarm and those pulsing colorful lights appeared to calm down, awaiting instructions.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Maro raised both hands and moved them in a forced perspective above the crowd, like a puppeteer.

All the while whispering smugly under his breath: “Dance for Me, Dance for me!”

The weather was just right, with almost no clouds in the sky and only a gentle breeze whispering across the sandy shore that separated her cozy residence from the endless blue.
She just stood there, eyes closed, steadily breathing, full of pleasant anticipation, as the vague noises from far grew louder, forming an awe-inspiring crescendo of sounds, expected to climax into the meaning of everything.
She put her head back, eyes still shut, arms wide spread to welcome the onrushing salvation.
Just a split-second before the impact, she took a deep breath to then fully immerse herself into the roaring Waves of Pink Noise.

Once upon a time, in a dark and boisterous age. In a town, shrouded in the darkness of a very dark and stormy night – midnight, to be exact – concealed deep down in the basement of a weather-worn house,
which seemed to be devoured by the eerie shadows of the dark monstrous tree next to it.
Behind the heavy doors of a dar…. dimly lit laboratory, completely secluded from society,
Maro – with his wild hair, dressed in a gray knit jersey and an oversized purple scientists coat, was desperately fiddling with some grotesque machine,
trying to achieve the ultimate low frequency sonic experience, when out of nowhere lightning struck into the house’s two-headed weather-cock…

With the last of his strength, Maro unlocked the bulky front door to his small but cozy apartment on the beach.
He tumbled through the hallway, while clumsily sloughing off his worn leather jacket, funny-patterned knit jersey and his beloved white mid-top sneakers that would have fallen apart already if he hadn’t carefully duct-taped them several times.
“Damn, that was one goddam bone-grinding day today at the factory…like an abstract nightmare”, Maro thought, “…with an unnecessary traumatic/sad ending.
Why had this childish fuck Lester to make fun of my daily safety instructions routine instead of simply following them like everybody else?!
Poor Sally and their two kids. Getting them all sated with a disability pension is nearly impossible”.
Maro sighed. Meanwhile he had also added his grungy work pants and one of his socks to the trail of carelessness that marked his way to the kitchen, where he had just popped open a bottle of beer using the top edge of the fridge door.

He took a pull from his bottle, failed to suppress a burp and scuffed into the living room, where he skillfully slumped down onto the couch, while grabbing the remote from the table and turning on the TV.
“Channel 12 Local News – Good evening ladies and gentlemen.
This afternoon a terrible incident in the local steelworks suddenly interrupted our rural idyll.
When Lester Barnaby got a straight answer on the question, to what disastrous consequences it could possibly lead, if you ignore the safety instructions from your shift supervisor.
While performing a silly mimicry of the foreman’s instructions, his fire proximity suit got caught between the enormous gears of the newly installed, fully-automated heavy-duty metal forging machine.
It’s only thanks to the lightning-fast reaction of his supervisor Maro ESK, who instantly jumped for the Panic Button, so the machine stopped right before Lester Barnaby’s shoulder.
Only a few minutes later, two men of the local fire department arrived at the accident scene, closely followed by an ambulance.
After relieving Mr. Barnaby from his pain with a shot of morphium, they cut him free from the machine’s fangs and treated the severe flesh wound with pressure dressings and liquid bandages, to stop the heavy bleeding.
He was instantly brought to the Saint Christopher hospital, where he was put into an artificial coma.
“Poor Lester! Today of all days, on his Birthiversary” Maro mumbled to himself, as he dozed off with exhaustion.
In the deep of night Maro woke up all baffled and dripping with sweat. Only fragmentary memories of a weird and confusing dream rushed through his head.
Starring Lester with an impressive cybernetic arm prosthesis and his personal, very sarcastic AI named M4R0, celebrating his 40th birthday.
Maro smiled to himself, swiped the drool off his left cheek and lurched to his bedroom.

EVOLVE, a magnum opus emerged from several super surreal synthesiser swinging’ studio sessions with the wonderful Miss Evoice from Stuttgart.
An ever evolving musical journey. Hear it, feel it, hold your breath and flow with it, call it into question, fight with it, hate it, get lost in it, hug it, love it.

This release contains two different re-work approaches of the track ‘Pub Stories’ from the album “New Found Trails” by Book of Tunes, originally composed and recorded by our friend Volker Armbruster in 2020. A fusion of traditional Irish Folk Music and playful, modern Electronica, garnished with new dedicated lyrics and vocals, deep dramaturge and loads of intense yet playful sound design and a huge cinematic arrangement, full of unexpected twists. All diced, spiced and fried and then tenderly arranged onto a richly adorned electronic platter served with a pint of Maroesk’s secret music brewing.
Here you can listen to the original song ‘Pub Stories’ by Book of Tunes.
www.bookoftunes.com | www.geraeuschfabrik.de

A story of the allure of getting lost in your own mind.
Drifting away in an endless stream of vague shadows of great ideas. Swimming, diving, wildly spinning, losing all bearings, drowning, almost fainting…
But that beautiful hypnotic voice keeps on calling for you. So sweet, so demanding, so terrifying, so clear.
It’s a promise, to find the most valuable treasure, at its source…