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When putting to record all the Post-Accretion musicians who have blasted their sounds across the planet, none have managed to establish their presence as up-front and momentously as Moon-Age Lobotomy has. With over 5,000 physical albums distributed for their self-titled LP (and fourth album overall), it has gone on to become the highest selling record for any music-makers in the last two eras. Not only that, but this record alone has also granted MAL the honor of being the first plastilina-roots band to have the first concert of their tour be recorded and transmitted onto all reciprocating monitors via our archipelago’s very own antenna tower. If that wasn’t a feat that had I and the rest of us subterrestrial fan-specimens blasting our brains to orbit, I don’t know what is!
This kind of pomp and circumstance is all well and good, but speaking as a long-time ‘moonhead’ I can’t help but find this sudden success to be just as perplexing as it is exciting. My mind renders the memory from just under a year ago of me walking by disorganized posters plastered on the walls inside the various shops of my city advertising the ‘Crescent Crew’s’ latest concert at the dive bar just on the outskirts. We would all be packed as tight as poolmen in-between mitosis on the bottom level as the band embraced our ears and vessels with their guttural prognosis. While there were certainly hints at the more finely-tuned jamage seen throughout their latest LP, their original sound held a rawer, more distorted energy reminiscent of classic plastilina bands such as Gentle Pistols and, in my opinion, even sharing some tonal similarities to the eclectic electronica of the short-lived yet legendary Journalière. Although I do find myself preferring the perfect progressive surfgaze of their latest sound and am happy to see them move up to performing in larger venues, there’s just something about the passion of witnessing these beings playing a more primordial form of music to you at such a close proximity that makes you feel lucky to have caught that brief moment of intimacy.
And as I mused on these nostalgic tidbits, my mind continuously builds the same questions: Who exactly are these beings, and how did they come to mold such a successful band in such a short span of time?
I have thought to render this passion to platinum many times since I first listened to their latest album Moon-Age Lobotomy just a week ago. The idea seemed preposterous at the time. How could a part-time reporter and full-time expositionalist like myself ever approach a band as popular as they are mysterious? Yet despite the cosmic uncertainty of my goal, fate waved a gesture at my being when I chanced upon the band’s vocalist, Somsnosa, at the archipelago’s newly-terriformed golf canyon! I managed to fight back against the star-struck apprehension in my glands to approach her and ask for an interview with the band. There was a brief silence from her as she took in my question, her two eyes mirroring the same level of elegant indifference that has made her stage presence so enrapturing, before she finally answered my question with a shrug and a “Yeah okay.”
After a short conversation of actualizing a plan to construct this interview, the whole thing was set. All of the secrets of our era’s most eccentric, pioneering, world-altering band would be revealed the following day in a small cafe in New Muldul.
The Crescent Crew: It was during the mid-stage of morning when I first met up with the band at the cafe, early enough that I could still witness faint specks of starlight in the dark pink sky from the entrance hole above. This was done on purpose, as it meant that the number of potential customers coming in would be close to none and thus lessen the possibility of there being any distractions for our interview. Dedusmuln, Pongorma, Somsnosa, and Wayne sat close to one another on the rearranged floor cushions while I was seated to face them, all of us putting priority into gaining energy from our cups of coffee so that we can begin our communication without the lingering haze of drowsiness.
“I know you’re the one who’s going to interview us, but before that I got my own question for you,” Wayne says to me as he gestures the warm liquid up from the cup with one hand, shaping it into a crescent replica as its essence is deployed within him. The guitarist’s image is that of a true rock star: an all pleather get-up of purest black, rocking a shining pair of sharp sunglasses and his harmonious yellow guitar resting on the floor beside his seat. “Why do all of our fans call themselves ‘moonheads?’ As far as me and Old Wayne are concerned there are no other species of moon beings left, and if there are they sure haven’t been showing up to our concerts!”
“It’s just an expression,” Somsnosa is quick to retort, slurping down her cup of coffee, “Since ‘Moon’ is the most straightforward word in our band name they just adopted it as a moniker for their fanbase. Unless they actually are projecting as moon beings, which would be really creepy… you guys aren’t doing that, right? Alright good. Also were we supposed to bring our instruments for this or is Wayne just making absolutely sure you know he’s part of the band?”
The two of them begin a back-and-forth of light jabs toward each other. Just as Wayne comments how at least his accessories match his outfit better than “those vintage checkered-boots [she’s] got sporting,” the frontwoman is just as quick to mention how if he likes his outfit so much than he should have noticed how he’s been staining his pant legs with stray droplets of coffee falling off of the mass he’s been suspending through his gesture. Keyboardist Pongorma can’t help but let out a snort of laughter as he finishes sipping his fourth serving of caffeine, expressing some stoic sympathies to Wayne whilst cupping his hands beneath the mug as not to have any spill onto his cactus-print shirt and khakis shorts. Meanwhile percussionist Dedusmuln smiles at their friends’ banter as they remain shy in their silence, their tendrils pointed upward in anticipation as they pleasantly tap their lianic fingers against the table top in a soft, rhythmic beat.
Not a single question had escaped my mouth, and already the antics they have shown me have removed any possibility of them matching the 'serious, well-mechanized man-o-war' image that many fans still cling to. Could this truly be the band bringing convexity to rock?
What Beguiles An Epithet: I felt it most fitting to start with the one question that was on all of our minds: What exactly does the name ‘Moon-Age Lobotomy’ even mean? Wayne is eager to give me an answer:
“I’m the Moon-Age!” he smiles as he points a finger at his head, “I was the one who was born and raised on the actual moon back before it got blown up, so the title has some personal symbolism to it in that I am a moon being of that, um, ‘age’ I guess.”
I suppose that did make a lot of sense. Although us moonheads are doomed to perpetual argument over who we consider our ‘Best Being,’ it is undeniable even from the beginning that Wayne seems to be the band’s mascot per-say, with his crescent visage appearing on nearly all of the bands album art and posters, even the group’s most widely used nickname. And of course that slick neon logo the band had decorated their stages with during their last tour. This thought compels me to ask whether or not the band is planning on adding a light show to their acts, but Wayne quickly dismisses this, stating that he and the band would be worried about not being able to see a damn thing whist they perform.
It was then that I wished to learn why exactly they have chosen to include the word ‘Lobotomy’ in their epithet. I remember a relic collector friend of mine informing me once that it was a supposed torture device belonging to the mythical civilization of ‘Unamanimams,’ and if that were true then it conjures up images of a troubled past that seems to falsely advertise the feel-good jamage the band actualizes in their records and shows.
“Well first of all, the Unamanimams are not mythical,” Dedusmuln finally speaks up, their voice cool and dreamy despite their stoic tone, “They were a real race of organisms that conquered this planet and went extinct thousands of years before our beings evolved. My fellow archeologists derived their name from one of their most common languages, Latin I believe it was called, and the name itself describes what made these beings unique from us: ‘one life.’ Meaning that once they died, their flesh and bones would never rejuvenate in the Afterlife and reform to their present position. A terrifying concept to be sure!”
Dedusmuln began speaking for minutes on-end about the history and mysticism of this ancient race. Despite the conversation going wildly off topic, the sudden rush of enthusiasm emanating out of them made me feel too twitterpated to want to interrupt. Now I understand why so many moonheads consider them 'The Cute One.' Pongorma was the one to truly answer my question after gently steering Dedusmuln out of their monologue:
“The way I view it, our usage of the term ‘lobotomy’ represents the hidden pain held in an often mythicized past. A being with only one life would have their brains crippled forever by such an instrument, so the fact that this race was capable of creating even such a small tool of destruction is as saddening as it is horrifically fascinating, as much of our own past often is. Considering when the band was first formed, one could see the name Moon-Age Lobotomy as a reflection on that specific state of the world. How the tyrant king used his moon to ‘lobotomize’ us hylics until we were all nothing more than empty husks ready to be molded into his twisted visions.”
“Woah, that’s pretty deep…” Wayne responds. He turns to me, the cool reflection of his shades contrasting just so slightly with the sheepish grin on his face, “At the time I just came up with the word lobotomy because I thought it sounded cool, and it flowed better with ‘moon’ compared to words like ‘tubular’ or ‘bomb-diggity.’ Hey don’t look at me like that! Neither of us were taking it very seriously at the time!”
Bungled Beginnings: It was then that I pivoted my questions toward MAL’s prehistory. Back when the band was born, but still far from the fully evolved psychic creature we have today. “Well back then the band was just me and Wayne,” Somsnosa recalls casually, “I think it all started with a joke, actually. We were having a back-and-forth about how we could fold the phantasmagoric tableau in my backyard with the Power of Love, and I said ‘Hey, how about the Power of Music?’ and that’s how I learned that Wayne actually knew how to play an instrument. I've played a few instruments myself here and there, stuff like guitars, maracas, harmonicas, and a glockenspiel my brother found for me once, but I only ever felt confident in my singing so I immediately latched onto the frontwoman role. But anyway, we were lucky enough to gather a playable guitar and some old sound equipment during one of our trash excavations in the city the next day, and right then and there we agreed to try and make something outta this.”
Wayne kept up his jubilancy as he listened to Somsnosa’s retelling of the germination of his band, yet when I asked him to recall his first experience with playing an instrument his mood seemed to shift into a sort of melancholy. “My very first instrument? That was a lyre. Y’know, those pygmy-harps that were really popular during the Age of Sages. My guardian taught me how to play it back when I lived on the Moon. It often played it as background music while reciting its poetry, but even though they were never told to, I suppose it just decided that making music was a practice that was vital for my development. Definitely helped me get into playing string instruments, hahaha...”
“And I’m glad they did! They sure would’ve appreciated hearing your guitar skills,” Somsnosa speaks to Wayne, which seems to lift his mood. Perplexing to imagine such a distortion shredder like Wayne having been reared on such a classical instrument, but if anything it does explain those Sage-like tempos that dominate all of Axe + Fish = Not of This Merry Planet and especially on We’re The Stars Now’s hit single ‘Gib-bitch.’ Speaking of those first two records, when asked about how those early classics came to light, Somsnosa answers thusly:
“Damn, they’re really calling those LP’s ‘classics’ now? Well I wouldn’t wanna take away any joy our fans are getting from them, but truthfully I’m not very fond of those old songs. Listening to them just brings back all these painful memories of trying to live during that time period which, before you ask, I have no desire to talk about. That and I see them as a reminder that neither of us had any idea what we were doing when it came to music making and it shows. Heh, I remember overhearing these two fans at our last gig talkin’ about how they wanted to hear us play ‘Not in the Jelli AgaiN’ in its entirety because the 3-minute version we play at our shows wasn’t ‘faithful to its essence.’ You wanna know the truth? The song was always supposed to be 3 minutes, it just ended up being 15 because we had accidentally tacked on all of the unfinished takes of the song during the mixing process and didn’t realize it until after we sent it off for distribution! Hahaha, looking back it's honestly crazy that we even got this band started, let alone made it to this point!”
While Somsnosa seems almost remorseful for having created Axe + Fish and Stars, Wayne approaches a different fate on the matter. “Personally I’m still quite fond of those early days. It was the first time in my life that I truly felt like I was doing something for myself and not to please any higher authority. Even just attracting a few fans at our bar concerts filled me with such an exhilaration! I mean yeah both of those records sound like undiluted crap to me now (my rhythm was just awful!), but it’s so rare for any band to actualize a banger of a record on their first try anyway. I like to view them as the prologue to the sound our band would develop later on.”
New Faces, Old Influences, New Sound: Those early days of limited sound would not last much longer. After Wayne and Somsnosa had finished their quest to defeat King Gibby, they found alongside them two new companions, both of whom shared a similar passion for music. Considering how seamlessly their talents flowed into this band, I was always curious as to how eager both beings were when presented the crystal to warp into becoming members of it.
“Oh, well, um…” Dedusmuln indulges the memory as they tug at the collar of their sweater, “I have and still do have a massive hyperfixation on music, particularly pre-accretion pieces, but I will admit that Wayne and Somsnosa’s offer frightened me at first. I had never played an instrument in my life, but the moment they invited me to their studio and caught me caressing the air above a theremin the two kept informing me how much of a natural I was along with how much my skills would truly add to MAL and, erm, I considered it too impolite not to take up their offer…”
“But you ARE a natural!” Somsnosa exclaims, while Wayne gives his guitar strings a gentle strum to show his agreement with her point.
“I didn’t even know how to play the thing! I was just waving my hand around in random patterns! Hmm, even now that I’ve transitioned to percussion I do still feel like I am ‘winging it’ when it comes to my skill as a performer.” Their head tendrils curl inwards at the memory of it all, and they motion toward Pongorma to speak in their wake.
“As for myself, I was eager to join the moment I learned of MAL’s existence!” Pongorma proudly exclaims, “Although my life from up to that point had revolved almost entirely around my duties as a dread knight, there was always a joyful passion for music making hiding beneath my armored exterior. It was birthed during my earlier days after attaining my knighthood, when I was finally allowed into the Great Palace of Yiithorn. During my walks through its towering halls I had found that the lower chapel contained in its center a large organ, with an even larger moog modular connected to it.
“I would sneak into the chapel to play it at night so that I would not be caught, and eventually I did this frequently enough that my skills went from mindlessly mashing the keys to crafting simple melodies. Even when my captain did discover me there one night, they were so impressed with my playing that I was allowed some of my off time to continue honing my keyboard abilities! I may have gotten the chance to perform in front of the Court of Yiithorn, but then the Conflict of Amulom became too great for us to ignore… erm, apologies for my ramblings. This is all meant to say that my role as a performing musician was truly a long time coming!”
It seemed that all MAL needed to perfect their line-up was a combination of humming modesty and organic maturation. Perplexing to think how so many members of classical (or classic loving) backgrounds could end up producing such newly-emergent soundscapes. I then ask the four to share with me their major influences when crafting Moonless and how their combined efforts forever altered the band's sound.
“Well, my inspirations are predictably classical," says Pongorma, "Many great organists whose names I could never memorize even back then (the court had always commissioned so many of them, thus they came and went so quickly). I also listened to a sizable helping of electric-based fungus symphonies, the hallowed Mycolyco being a favorite of mine (which would explain that ‘whirring’ effect I tried on tracks like ‘Hermit Isle’). I do try to adjust my being to the sounds of modern bands, but much of it does not interest me very much. That being said, I had found myself studying the work of Ersmeon, Leka, & Plmrea a good deal, particularly with how Ersmeon gestured knives to stab in between the keys of his Hammond. Perhaps I would have used my sword to replicate that effect had I possessed a true organ during that record’s production.”
“Oh geez, now I’m glad we had to settle with that old soundboard for you at the time!” Somsnosa jokingly replied, “But yeah I’d say Pongorma’s skillset was vital to our band’s continued survival. I’m glad that we finally have a real organ now for him to truly show off, but we got a surprising amount of complexity from that little ‘board. Definitely gave Moonless more of a techno flair compared to the rest of our work. But anyway, my main stylistic influence for that album (and all of our albums to be frank) was without a doubt Journalière. Kinda funny for me to say that since there’s no vocals on their record, but I developed my vibrato as a means of emulating that kind of spiraling-yet-gentle hollowness they manage to capture in their overall sound.”
At this point my feeble subterranean insect mind cannot hold back the urge to rave about Journalière, and so the next few moments are dedicated thusly to conversing of memories of those doom-hydrating legends with Somsnosa and Dedusmuln, who’s interest notably peaks at my gushing of their genius. Somsnosa recounts memories that parallel my own; while she did not have the opportunity to have seen them live during their time, she did ware her vinyl of No Future to mush with the sheer volume of repeat listens of those four 10-minute tracks ("much to the displeasure and fear of my parents and sibling"), particularly set to the background of long, nightly reflections on the state of the world and how it relates to one's self. In contrast, Dedusmuln appeared to not have discovered the chambers of their hallowed genius on their own but was instead recommended ("more so forced to, actually") by their archeological mentor, and possess the truly brave opinion that their music is actually "pretty catchy" and "fun to hum along to." While the both of them are adamant about borrowing the energy (and occasionally the tone) from Journalière, they also express the turmoil of being trapped in the role of being a band that 'shares similarities with Journalière':
"The problem with it," Somsnosa explains, a new hint of irritation in her voice as she crosses her arms under her poncho, "is that even though I wanted our sound to reveal some inspiration from that band, we never wanted to be directly compared to them in the way a lot of our fans have been trying to do. I dunno, it's just that I want our music to keep evolving in ways that suit us personally, and being shackled by other's desires to hear us play our music with that same kind of electronic melancholy all the time is really starting to bring me down, you know? I swear, it's this whole attitude that utilizing even just the slightest of time-tested time signatures and melodies equates to being more 'generic' that has really made me grow to detest the modern subterranean music scene! And besides, I don't think you guys understand how much it worries me that you compare a lot of my writing and performance as a frontwoman to that of Clerical (only replacing the intrigue of her dancing with my singing). The last thing I want in my life is to have an on-stage breakdown like the one she had."
Dedusmuln is quick to agree. "Personally I cannot fathom why any being would desire to listen to a copy-cat band, but it was true that some of our fans with more, erm, plastilina-or-death philosophies manifested a tremendous uproar at my decision to trade playing a theremin for a drum set and gong. I can even remember overhearing some of their comments..." The percussionist makes a sad little set of noises at the memory, causing the crew to proclaim those commenters as 'just a sore bunch of whiners who don't even matter' and for Pongorma to put an arm around them in support, which thankfully re-stabilizes their mood. It is truly a shame how there still exists many entitled, gatekeeping snobs amongst our fan grouping. As far as my being is concerned the moment one begins harassing any member or fan of the Crescent Crew they instantly have their title of moonhead revoked!
"Perhaps it is best we steer our minds back to the initial topic," Pongorma suggests. A wise decision on his part, as my fan-instincts were beginning to eclipse my journalistic integrity.
“Sure thing,” Wayne responds as he stretches in his seat, “Anyway, my influences are, uhhh… now that I think about it, I never really had any specific bands or genres that inspired my songwriting. I had so many other things in my life to worry about that it ended up becoming difficult for me to appreciate music until I started producing it myself, so I base my playing off whatever kind of burning passion renders itself in my mind. Sorry if that’s not a satisfying answer.
"To get back on topic with how our sound changed though, I mean obviously Dedus and Pongo unleashed a wealth of sound potential that our band never had with just me and Soms. For the Moonless tour we actually had a pretty unique playing style that we're still sticking with to an extent. I would be the one to start each show strumming out some directionless riffs, and then walk over to each of the others and they'd begin playing or singing to me so that we then develop a melody until we were all playing at once, sort of like I was 'activating' them you could say! We thought me walking up to them was starting to seem kinda weird and gimmicky though, so nowadays we try to play our shows as if each of our actions were being controlled by a singular being, if that makes any sense."
It did not make a molecule of sense to me, but I assume that must be because I am not familiar with how the music making process works. Still, it is strange to imagine how such a seemingly aimless style of playing produces such rich tapestries of sound. The wonders of music-making will never cease to amaze me!
New Moon Rising: By now the shine of late-morning glistens through the entrance hole of the cafe, and the owner comes to inform us that in a few moments the daily rush of customers will shatter our peace in the name of awakening their glands with coffee. At first the thought renders my vessel in a state of panic. It seemed like I had only been with MAL for such a short amount of time, and I had so many more questions to ask them! Perhaps I should move the interview location to some other quiet location to extend my time with them, but where would that possibly be? The tree patches outside of town?
However, it then dawned on me that I truly did not have so many more questions that I felt needed answering from the group. Us moonheads have already been given great knowledge of how the production of their latest record came to be (thanks to the linear booklet that came tethered alongside each copy), and to question these beings on any major or minor details of their personal lives would be completely inappropriate. This band has already been kind enough to bestow on me a wealth of elusive insights into their musical minds and passionate hearts, and thus the only question I have left to ask them is this: What do you all believe the future holds for you regarding your band and newfound fame?
"In my humblest of opinions," says Dedusmuln, "I believe that we can only keep going up from here! While I may have rendered some of my previous statements in a bit of a negative light, I want you to know that I wholly enjoy every moment I get composing songs and playing them out at our concerts. To think I had once been so afraid of showing my passions to even a singular other being. Anyway, if all of you are enjoying our latest album so much, then I can guarantee you that we will all make the time to keep on making music for the masses! Erm, at least if the rest of you are in agreement with me. If not I suppose I could try my hand at a solo career."
"Don't worry Dedus, we're all still into it!" Wayne eagerly replies.
"Oh totally!" Somsnosa adds on, "Although Dedus is right in that most of us need to plan out our time when it comes to keeping the band stabilized. It used to take me and Wayne a few days to write all of our songs for those first two albums, but now that we're actually taking our music seriously the writing and recording process has increased to months, and that's not even getting into the fact that we all also have to act as the collective 'manager' of our band since we still haven't found one we can trust yet (Chief Blerol recently offered, but we're still not sure whether it'll work out or not). I also have to spend a lot of time helping to run the new juice ranch my brother and I set up, so really being a part of this band is just a balancing game of finding time in my schedule to keep it going."
Pongorma nods, adding with it a hum of agreement. "I as well have to be careful of when it would be most appropriate for me to be touring with my companions. For half a year now I have held my position as a Knight of New Muldul, still the only fully-trained knight of this city to be precise, and because of that it is my chivalric duty to use my violence to protect this city's inhabitants and help train the others to rise to my level. Once they are competent enough in their duties I may find more time to keep contributing to MAL, as I do wish to continue perfecting my organ playing skills!"
"Yeah, it can all be a little much sometimes," says Wayne, proceeding to gently play some notes on his guitar as he speaks, "Old Wayne often needs me to help him train my siblings and rehabilitate the Warpos, and even when I have been getting time off my inspiration to write music can be pretty erratic. I've always had trouble focusing on finishing any piece of art I start to create, but lately there have been a lot of thoughts swimming around in my brain that at best distract me and at worst, well, make me feel like I'm wasting my time." The guitarist sighs at the burden of his statement, only to then look around at his bandmates and smile, "But I'm not too worried anymore. As long as these guys are with me, I'll keep manifesting jams for as long as it makes us happy, and I'll always look forward to whatever new musical destination our vision will take us next!"
Just as soon as Wayne concludes his thoughts, my ear holes are greeted by the various sorts of footsteps of customers slogging their vessels into the cafe to relieve their morning sluggishness. 'Oh my soul, is that Moon-Age Lobotomy?' a hose-headed carriophage utters as they slowly regain their senses from the steaming caffeine. 'It is! It is!' replies their tyro friend, eye gleaming in delight, "This moon-guy's holding the same guitar, it's got to be them!' The Crescent Crew quickly take turns giving me their thanks for setting up the interview (before the crowd of moonheads and casual fans can grow any larger), and thus I leave them to their admiration. Just before I exit, however, I could hear Wayne cheerfully utter one last string of words towards me: "Let us know if you ever wanna be our roadie next tour!"
If I've learned anything about the beings behind Moon-Age Lobotomy, it's that they'll never fail to bring me a sense of joy.