Before the end of this year experimental, genre-melding, sound alchemist, Möbius Mudd, will finally be releasing his debut single on all major online platforms, along with a limited 7″ vinyl pressing. The song was written by Möbius Mudd using his signature style of recording, including notable contributions by Scott Stone, the project’s producer. Stone says: “We use the term ‘producer’ lightly. I am more of a lightning rod, or at the very least, a bottle.” Lightning is a notion that repeatedly comes up when discussing the art of Möbius Mudd, as his sound has often been heralded as “lively,” “jolting,” and even “electrifying.” It has also been said that Mudd builds musical sand castles, and it is the job of his production team to preserve and expand these pieces which would otherwise be destroyed. Mudd exhibits little interest in nurturing his creations; much like a harp seal or panda bear he gives life to these creations and then largely abandons them. Maybe someone will deem it worthy of something, maybe not. Either way is fine with him. In fact, anything more would obscure the purity of his work; would defeat the purpose of his vision. Make no mistake though: These are not premeditated ideas, Mudd is merely operating on artistic instinct. The production team behind this single (and also album in 2018) has implemented a zero-leak policy by threatening to shelve the entire collection of songs and start over if a single note of official Mudd product is disseminated online or off. “Why should you care?” Scott Stone poses this question publicly, in the next breath answering: “Because it’s Möbius Mudd, and believe me when I tell you nobody wants to miss these songs. I’ve been living in a vacuum with this material, assisting in its creation, and I’m not being hyperbolic in any way when I say this may very well be the most important, groundbreaking music you hear this year – or next.”
Producer, Stone has also penned a very poignant account of how he discovered Möbius Mudd’s music, what it means to him, and more:
One Saturday morning the artist himself sent me a video clip of some dark green alien-looking lights against an abyss of darkness. The camera moved shakily as a song sounding eerily familiar played infinitely in the background. When I say “familiar” I do not mean that it sounded like something already written and/or produced (although it should, given the fact that it’s pieced together by samples of existing songs). Instead, this melancholy clip sounded as if it had been in existence forever; a melody and arrangement that had merely been waiting for someone to pluck it from that same dark abyss pictured in the video, and translate it into a language the rest of this world could understand.
I obsessed over this one minute, twenty-two second clip. I used the available iPhone apps to identify it – no luck. I asked friends, family and colleagues repeatedly over the next few days – no luck. I pulled up entire discographies on Tidal (yes, I’m an audio snob), thinking it must be a rare 90s alt-rock demo or God knows what – no luck. I’d asked Mudd via a response text message: “What is that song?! Need 2 know asap.” In his typically elliptical phone manner, he skirted the question, responding only with riddles, rhymes and non-sequiturs until I finally gave up. The creator seemed happy to change the subject.
The following week, during our next scheduled phone conversation, rather than talking business I cut straight to the point, probably sounding like an absolute lunatic, eyes wide, fists clenched, sweating – “YES! Finally, I’ve got you where I want you! Tell me the name of that %$%##@ song!!!” Okay, maybe not like that exactly, but probably not too far off. As an avid appreciator of art, having something so good be so readily unidentifiable is tantamount to mental torment. In his laid back, Southern manner, Mr. Mudd simply offered, “Oh, that one? I just threw it together, man.”
My jaw must have visibly dropped as I sat there, phone in hand, at my office desk. I knew Mudd had dabbled in making music, but I didn’t know he was this good. Now, before I continue, I should point out that “good” is entirely objective and I appreciate that, but please bear in mind that what I’d initially admired most about this song – and what I found to be so damn “good” – was essentially two sides of the same coin:
- The sound of the song itself and how it made me feel was extraordinary
- The way in which Mudd arranged the three or four simple, repeating song elements was absolutely brilliant – like a few desperate souls echoing in some tube of inestimable lunacy
However, upon discovering that I could not buy or stream this song from anyplace; that I could not attain a full quality recording of it; that I could not even keep anything beyond the one minute, twenty-two second iPhone clip I originally fell in love with… well, needless to say, it was all very heartbreaking. Until…
I then realized (with Mudd’s help) that the music of Möbius Mudd is not something that is “available” in the traditional, or even in the modern sense. This is music that is the equivalent of a flash mob. It will happen in real life – REAL LIFE, words Mudd himself loves – and if you’re lucky enough to be there or someone captures a clip of it, then you own it too. He is all about the live performance, which in his case is more conceptual art than commercial music. And I mean that in the best possible way. To latch onto a song like I did means that you’ve become a part of something special. The artist manipulated a series of sounds and twisted them into something that transcended genre, style and substance. Maybe it reminds you of a feeling from when you were young. Maybe it makes you jump up and down with excitement. Maybe it makes you cry over your last beer of the night. You take what you want from the music of Möbius Mudd – you just need to catch and bottle it first.
Over the next few weeks, Mr. Mudd bottled a few more of these magic moments for me and they were no less thrilling than the original song, which I’ve decided to name “FLOORJAM” – but you can name it anything you want.
Following the “FLOORJAM” single release will be a long-awaited album in early 2018, which will include the flagship single as part of a unique and moving song cycle. More information will follow in advance of this event. Furthermore, Möbius Mudd will be appearing as a special guest on Strathmore Online Radio in 2018, where he will play a series of unheard gems – lightning that touched down, not bottled; sand castles that washed away.