MYOSOTIS

Philip Weyand does not agree with the development of contemporary floristry:

Not flowery enough, and somehow it used to smell more intense, didn't it? - "Nostalgia is a virtue!" he tells his band one morning. Because they not only know him well, but are real friends, they don't think he's crazy, but know immediately what to do:

Pack the instruments, get on the train. A glass house is rented, seeds are purchased, thumbs manicured green, potting soil freshly scented spread, and then they throw sounds: warmly bleeding for Placido, melancholically drifting for Myosotis, pale smoldering for Unbunt, downright phototoxic for Anthrax, longing-calling for's Zwischenspiel, freely meandering for N°X, energetically swirling for EtG, sizzlingly swinging for Nomos, southern melting for Schweifen, crystalline shimmering for Stardurst.
And all this: performed in a deserted, sultry house; only plants are the audience. Do they hear the music? Do they not sway gently to the beat? I think I heard the angel trumpets sigh. But it could also be a hallucination.

My heart is so warm.

-Stephan Pfalzgraf (jazz expert)

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