Tuxedomask welcome us into their giant ice pyramid positioned high up in between misty peaks shrouded in solitude by an iced over forest of silver pine trees that sound like a million quartz chimes shattering into pieces as the wind blows through them. Here they sit atop a customised gold leaf throne, the kind of which Rick Wakeman once oozed his splendid regal pomposity over in the days when he lauded over knights of the realm and armed with his arsenal of synthesizers would make all and sundry dance and glide across his pristine crystal clear cathedral floors like drunk cobras emerging from their charmer’s baskets.

Before them in the centre of the room, perfectly and eerily still stands a young waif of a woman dressed in a willowy new wave Grecian outfit, her face obscured by waves of blonde hair concealing an unmistakable sense of unspeakable dread in her eyes who upon hearing the pearl strand strains of their wintry slo-mo rococo disco orchestrations moves into life to perform an anti gravity ballet. At both sides of the girl sit a congregation of men, all with the same face possessed of a chilling spider like intensity, doppelgänger of one another cloaked by black hoods, who throw glass roses in sick appreciation that shatter at her bare feet and paint the pyramid floor ruby red, waiting for her to blink as she glides across beautiful coral waves of synthetic sound.

Tuxedomask – Twin Peaks

With a name like Timo of Finland you might expect this (surprise, surprise kids!) Finnish native to craft oily, squelching, red light grooves that might soundtrack monumental Society styled orgies inside a giant leather padded fuck fortress, where muscle quite literally melts into muscle and burly men rip open each other’s hard toned bodies for a place to rest.

Timo’s sound is altogether more chilled, conjuring up scenes of Giorgio Moroder holidaying in Monaco, resplendent in all white, flanked by giddy giallo nymphs whilst walking two mechanical poodles in front of a pink and orange sunset. With its romantic louche euro cool and elysian italo power plinks that could have emerged from the dreamtheatre in Kelley Polar’s head it could very well serve as the bluebird prelude to a dark night in the fortress.

Timo of Finland – Omnomnom (Demo)