Even now, whenever I put Moon Safari on, something happens before “La Femme d’argent ” has even started. It becomes a kind of time travel. I am back in Australia, January, 1998, in a summer that still feels closer to me than plenty of years since.
That summer was all about raving for me, but out of nowhere, Moon Safari landed in the middle of all that noise. I remember a few of us used to drive down to the beach at night, park up, leave the doors open and let the whole album play, watching a sunset and a few drinks. It sounded strange and modern, vocoders and analogue synths, yet somehow familiar too, like a French love…
