Eating Darkness

Roman Flügel is a magician. This statement is far from being a hyperbole. Just put the needle down on any record – I mean any! – of his ( collaborations included) since the early nineties and see for yourself: none of them are without that special effect. The magic works instantly. And as the thing with magic goes: it’s challenging to explain it. But I guess that is what makes it magic. Eating Darkness is the title of his newest spell. Affected by the fundamental shock that any system got in 2020 – but not the result thereof – it is an album that could absorb it – as its name might suggest. Music and nightlife work hand in hand as escapism and as anchors or as the undercoat of social interactions. They enable people to deal with hardships as well as the burden and the joy of life. That is the starting point and hope of Eating Darkness: the outlook and invitation to enrich each and everyone’s existence. Bound to the single LP format and reminiscent of a time with format limitations, the nine tracks are testament to Flügel’s weakness for the art of pop music with the use of little and especially short motifs. Furthermore equipped with a clear instrumentation and without any camouflage, Eating Darkness corresponds to his idea of a virtual band. As it happens, the opener is called The Magic Briefcase. That sits not only well with my first sentence, but pretty much embodies the album and Roman Flügel’s apparatus in an alternative title: Crystal clear sounds and melodies bounce on and off the dance floor, living room and club are pulled together and transcendental moments take turns with the tangibility of reality. After all, that is how a real magician allures you.