Cerca:the science fiction corporation

Back in 1968, a pair of Germanic behind-the-scenes sound
librarians called Horst Ackermann and Heribert Thusek left a
tiny but indelible pinprick on the history of German Pop in the
misshaped form of a sexy horror cash-in concept album called
‘Dracula’s Music Cabinet’. Shelved at a micro-cosmic axis
where Krautrock meets lesbian vampire Horrortica and easy
listening meets psychedelia, the delayed reaction of this mutant
concoction eventually exploded in the mid-1990s in the hands of
a generation of ‘record diggers’ sending currency-crushing
tremors through the wallets of mods, rockers, hip hoppers and
psych nuts around the plastic-pillaging planet. The vinyl junkies
had resurrected a monster but, like addicts do, they ravenously
sucked it dry and moved on looking for the next fix to feed their
habit.

Luckily for some, Ackermann and Thusek were also creatures
of habit. And it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that they
were holding the next dose, but by the turn of the millennium
the mad scientists had been given a thirty-five-year head start
on the pop archaeologists and their mythical sequel was literally
light-years ahead of their previous draconian instalment.
Encouragingly, the unclosed cabinet left a shiny white clue in
the form of its closing track ‘Frankenstein Meets Alpha 7’.

The Ackermann and Thusek duo were far from dynamic. They
were undercover agents hiding behind user-friendly mock-rock
monikers and, like most B-Musicians, the only way to sniff them
out would be to read the small print. But when an unidentified
record on an unknown label with a title like ‘Science Fiction
Dance Party’ crops up in the Eins Deutschmark crates it’s not
exactly rocket science - although the track titles might suggest
otherwise. ‘The End Of A Robot’, ‘Monster On Saturn 1’,
‘Galactic Adventures Of The Outer Space Fleet’, ‘The Whistling
Astronauts’, ‘Death Rays Out Of The Universe’… The tell-tale
signs are all there and if that doesn’t clench the deal then what
will?

Even rarer than its horror counterpart, this ultra-rare record
regularly reaches sums in excess of €400 plus online.

Berlin-based duo Brigade returns with their sophomore effort, having spent the intervening years refining their approach to sample-based composition. Where 2022's "Hard Times, Soft Music" established their credentials as purveyors of comfort food electronics, „Unlimited Dreams Corporation“ finds the pair digging deeper into the archives, constructing elaborate sonic collages from decades of discarded vinyl.The fictional corporate framework, a company peddling bespoke dream experiences, works as an aesthetic guide, appropriate for 2025.

The fourteen tracks unfold with the patience of bedroom producers who understand that the best plunderphonic work happens in the margins. Brigade layers found sounds and field recordings with careful restraint, creating pockets of warmth that invite repeated listening. The broken beat rhythms feel lived-in rather than showy, while the more ambient moments provide necessary breathing room. It's headphone music that rewards attention without demanding it, the kind of record that reveals new details months after initial discovery.