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∞ - Once Upon A Time: The Secret Origins Of...


 
         
   

"Magic Bullet are counterparts from parallel realities"

   
 

 

On this Earth, I took the stage name of Mick Magic and created Magic Moments At Twilight Time in 1986. Two years later, I adopted the secret identity of Skit Zoyd and made some recordings, which I released under the name of Ehrlich Bullet. Unbeknown to me at the time, on a parallel Earth, another version of myself took the stage name of Skit Zoyd and created Ehrlich Bullet in 1986. Two years later, he adopted the secret identity of Mick Magic and made some recordings, which he released under the name of Magic Moments At Twilight Time. Our lives continued to mirror eachother's until 2018, when we first became aware of the existence of our counterpart. We were both promoting the Brain Dead Studio analogue remaster of our most popular album  ("Creavolution Reborn" by MMATT; "Destruction Regurgitated" by EB) via an online event, both of which came with a free downloadable album. On our side, the event and album were called "Flashbax Omicron 13", on the other, it was called "Snakeshit" (we apologise that we are unable to include hyperlinks to URL's based in other dimensions). In both cases, proceedings were interrupted by the appearance of The Doc and Mick Tron, who had just visited me a decade in the future, on the occasion of my 70th birthday. My future self had told them about how Skit and I had crossed worlds to begin the Magic Bullet project. They showed us both 'trans-dimensional bleed' photos of the other, in which we appeared as ghosts in eachother's worlds. Together, they told us, we would "collaborate on a body of work called 'Gravitas'. Music inspired by the book you don't remember writing, 'The Second World Chronicles' by Sati Varg." Why they said nothing about "Solidarietas", "Curiositas" or "Digitalis" remains a mystery at this point in time, but we know "Gravitas" will come...

 
         
    "Magic Bullet are twins who tell lies"    
 

Nicholas and Russell were born at St. Teresa's Maternity Hospital, The Downs, Wimbledon, on 21st April 1958, to a 15 year old girl who was forced to give them up for adoption, seeing nothing more than a finger of each as they were taken from her. They were kept together for the remainder of the year, whilst the nuns found great difficulty in finding a couple willing to take on two new children at once. Finally, there was no choice but to have the twins adopted separately. At the behest of their birth family, they were never to be told of the existence of the other, though both would grow up with a sense that something was missing from their life. In 1975, a law change gave adopted children the right to see their original birth certificate when they were 18. Both would do so, and both would try to trace their birth parents. Both would fail. And there our tale would have ended, save for a second change in the law in 2005, giving mothers the right to trace children they had given up for adoption. In 2008, not long after my 50th birthday, that's exactly what happened to me. It was a day that changed my life. One morning I awake an only child, I go to bed as one of five, though I had not yet been told of my twin, as my birth mother had thus far failed to trace him. Then, 10 years later, an e-mail arrives, complete with a photo of a guy who looks just like me. But with a mohican...

 
         
    "Magic Bullet are something altogether much stranger"    
 

On 23rd October 2016, in the midst of an online Facebook event called "Down The Rabbit Hole", celebrating 30 years of Magic Moments At Twilight Time, I disappeared from this Earth for several hours. On my return in the evening, I was dirty and dishevelled and my hair and beard had grown considerably. Pictures on my camera and journals on my netbook, later published as "The Second World Chronicles" under the name of Sati Varg, suggested I had in fact been gone for several months. They weaved a tale of my waking up in a dark cellar, having no knowledge of who or where I was; a tale that ultimately had me leaving the derelict building I dubbed 'The Base' to find myself in an empty, lifeless world, with only a sky filled with alien craft for company; none of which I can remember anything about. Even more strangely, exactly the same thing had happened to Skit...

 
               
 

Where fact masquerades as science fiction, one could be forgiven for becoming confused. To paraphrase a scene from one of my favourite TV programmes of that genre: What you want to know is, of all the stories I have told you, which ones were true and which ones were not? My dear readers, they are all true. "Even the lies?" I hear you ask. Especially the lies...

 
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