Cloud Cukkoo

On off. On off.

It's 2am on a Tuesday and you're crying on the dance floor. Not that anyone needs to notice: the smoke machine fog and the neon bombardment of the worn-out LED lights are grateful camouflage material. You order something and five seconds later you forgot what. The night goes on; the night stagnates.

On off. On off.

You are not alone. You make enough eye contact with the silhouettes around you. Getting lost is a craft, but you are a professional. You want to disappear into the night, as silent as can be, right through the atmosphere. Ecstasy is also a form of anesthesia. You dance, ask how your friends are doing, and then don't text them. The night goes on; the night stagnates.

On off. On off. Tomorrow is another tomorrow.

Cloud Cukkoo makes music for nights in shades of blue. Nights of wet ashtrays and unlived homesickness; nights that are dazzling, deafening and unnerving; nights where comfort and desolation merge. It's the biting winter cold that feels like an embrace after hours of dancing in a packed club. Let yourself slip into danceable depression, reverberating synthesizers and spirited vocals. Cloud Cukkoo is as dreamy as it is sleepless.