Cosmic Crooner makes a potent statement on his new track

He did it again. Four different cases: Deep down in Jazz, Popsicle place, Bolero, and now Reflexopolis. All by the same culprit: Cosmic Crooner. Same modus operandi, same crew. He is a methodical Crooner. 

What’s the word on the street? European, some say he lives in Amsterdam. Don’t underestimate his Doowop space pop. It’s irresistible. There’s no such a thing. Is there? 

My trench-coated informer kicks the manila envelope across the abandoned underground car park, and I hear him saying:

“Getting caught in a dream / Two missed calls from the hot-line suspense comedy / Yesterday’s apocalypstick / Got reviewed today” (Reflexopolis - Cosmic Crooner, 2022)

Are you the Crooner? But he is gone already.

A strong smell of strawberry fields emanates from the speakers as they play Reflexopolis.  

Like with its predecessors, I find microfilm in the envelope with the song. It shows the dreams of a Cosmic Crooner; searching, posing, staring at me. He conceived it, I know it.

As I stare out of my window — a bed float on Lake Como — I know he is out there, Deep down in jazz. 

The casual air of Reflexopolis and its bridges won’t stop my investigation, nor the guitars making love to the Glockenspiel and the Vibraphone while the Mellotron watches with a grave expression.

“Cosmic Crooner was born in such a way” (Deep Down in Jazz - Cosmic Crooner, 2021)

Following the tip, I fly to Amsterdam and ask about him in a ballroom where old couples are competing in a dance-off. I recognize his dreamlike lyrics, suggesting images of hallucinogenic space love; his warm voice above anything else, but never crushing the refined layers of instruments: they are dancing to Cosmic Crooner. A dignified judge stares down at me and whispers:

“I’ll dance with you if I’ll have to / But I don’t care, cause I’m not about to impress anyone else / With my moves” (Bolero - Cosmic Crooner, 2021)

Are you the Crooner? 

He slowly points his tattooed, gnarly finger to a door in the back. I enter a little theatre where I find several men and women in trench coats, shades, and fedora hats watching Le Samourai (1967) by Jean-Pierre Melville.

I want to leave, but I just can’t. I’m hypnotized. I sit down and watch too. When the film is over, I am alone in the room. The bent strings of a crying guitar bring me back to the present: Reflexopolis is playing somewhere.

My eyes widen as I spot a crack of light coming through by a door left ajar behind the silver screen. I barge in, realizing the tiny apartment was left in a hurry. Pictures of Serge Gainsbourg, Scott Walker, and Marc Bolan lie on the floor. An old projector’s buzz startles me. I turn around to writing on the wall. 

“It’s all clear now / That my songs maybe slow / But my love will grow” (Reflexopolis - Cosmic Crooner, 2022)

Damn you, Cosmic Crooner! I will find you!