After releasing his 1st album "Have You Seen My Dancing Shoes?" on Leftroom in 2008, Marc Ashken went a little bit quiet... As you reader, may also see. The scene with which he'd built his name in went beyond the point of stale and seemed to die overnight, with minimal changing into bongo driven, latino laden, euro house, and with it, Marc..sadly.. slowly, started to fragment.
You see, Marc couldn't accept this new style of music. And, try as he might to adapt to this new environment, he just could not change his genetic code, the programming was written too strongly into him. So, hesitantly at first, but gathering speed as they went, tiny little pieces of Marc began to brake off. Flesh and braces playfully peeling themselves away and floating carelessly into the air, piece by piece. The converse and the curls, slowly braking apart and taking on a life of their own. Floating up, up past the highest tree, up, up past the tallest tower, up, up and away, past the very highest flying bird and off, into the clouds, where they danced with the rain and snow, the sun and the sleet, playing gleefully, absorbing mother natures remedies.
So happy was Marc, floating in a million teeny pieces high in the clouds, that he wished he could stay forever... but...some of his fragments had other idea's.
You see, after breaking away from the masses of pieces in the jigsaw that made up Marc, each and every one of the fragments developed their own consciousness, and while, as a mass, the collective was happy with the weather, there were a few that just would not sit still, fidgets we'll call them. These fidgets, mischievous as mice, masquerading as sweets, saw their situation on high, was not yet complete. So their queries and quandaries, as discussed amongst themselves, devised a plan, in Marc's best health. When the masses were sleeping, softly and secure in the clouds, they rallied their numbers and began to shout.
"Don't settle for this, you're all so much more, the weather is pretty but my dear's, we must implore! Work on yourselves and aim so much higher, don't be blinded by darkness....... learn to make fire!"
All the little fragments, suggestible as they were, heard the fidgets cry, and one by one began to spark, a little light inside, that grew to a flame, that flickered and flashed as if playing a game, and as they did they made a little sound, weeeeee!! and whizzed up out of the worlds atmosphere, away from the clouds. When they finally stopped, they looked all around, and saw acres of space, and heard not a sound. The silence was deafening and the fidgets felt free, free to look as they liked and dance, wherever they may be. They danced around the stars and through the black holes, learning a lot about life, reality and control. They knew all at once what they had to do, so they educated the masses in what only they knew.
Marc slowly reformed with this new knowledge from above, his new style was born. Filled full of funk and hip swinging love..