In the early hours of a warm, jovial Monday morning I found myself staring vacantly at the postbox. It was for no particular reason I gazed at the post box holding a steaming cup instant coffee other than the need to collect what would almost definitely be a selection of both Dominos discount vouchers and various small brochure’s from the health and wellbeing centre down the road. Needless to say I was surprised when I discovered (under the mounds of wasted tree pulp advertising companies some how deem as paper) a small black envelope entitled to me, Aaron Powell. “What could this be?” I wondered. Could it be a lost birthday card? An ink and parchment scroll from the local reenactment society? A tome of unimaginable academic merit? I traipsed back to the house, engulfed in my gigantic maroon robe to explore further.
Armed with a single fig roll I tore open the letter and I found 9 puzzle pieces. Intrigued I quickly assembled the puzzle expecting some sort of hidden map to buried treasure or a particularly elaborate PR ploy to investigate a claim into mis sold payment protection insurance. Thankfully It was none of the above. This little puzzle was embossed in singular block font with the word “Mulan” and a link at the bottom instructing me to find the website and listen to a track. I did so. It was brilliant.
A wash of RnB tinged, groove laden synth pop invaded my admittedly puny sound system filling my dingy nest in a sort of warm glow only brought about by takeaway food. “Night” the track from this mysterious group combined remnants of various bygone eras into something thought provoking, at times sonically challenging and inherently catchy. Beaming at the fact actual mail made it to my postbox and with the infectious sound of squeaky 80s guitars ringing in my ears I went promptly back to bed. In my maroon night gown. Quietly content.
Words by Aaron Powell