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It’s warm in the stable. Actually it’s rather hot. The jeep’s motor is already purring as Erobique licks away the last scoop of strawberry ice cream and switches on the car radio. He spins the tires, pushing up a cloud of dust and sand to cover his ride like a protective shield. With ice cream and suntan lotion glistening in his beard, he puts the jeep in gear and moves off. The cowbells clatter on the back seat as yet another warm synthie wave washes the jeep up to the nearest club. It’s dazzlingly bright; still, all eyes are drawn to the source. The bongos accelerate and high-pitched strings hover above the drifting dancers basking in slow motion. “Warmer Bruder” is a dependable, good friend. Erobique will drive him on over and take you along…no matter where you are. The tunnel is long. Lights fly by, spinning into lines. Slowly, the black abyss opens and the walls become permeable. Warm, dark sand caressing feet and rising around legs. An omnipresent kick marches throughout the tenacious, mounting mass of melody textures and harmony particles. Alexander Polzin steers the gigantic ship towards the harbor. Expectant onlookers feed on the approach of dark, shimmering monument with blissful eyes. It is still glowing. “Früchtchen” is a ship without a sail, without a motor. Its momentum is the power of fancy[txt from ]