Black and white, wisps of fog, dim light: two men in black turtlenecks, skin-tight trousers, and pointy boots. The strumming sound of the guitar and the pounding beat of the Hammond, then two-part harmony. Flashback: their parents' living room in Polaroid colors, brothers Roman and Matthias as dungaree-wearing boys, singing for their relatives and tinkling the piano. After tirelessly digging in their rock 'n' roll father's record den, they devoted themselves for a few years to '60s pop, which proclaims love and swears loyalty. Now it's about the naked truth and sluts – merciless, direct, to the point. In other words, the stuff that even the thousandth teenage indie band still hasn't figured out.
The Mojos' engines roar with a garage sound, loudly unleashing their fury. Compared to renowned garage duos like The Black Keys and The White Stripes, the Mojos' instrumental setup is different: with a fuzz guitar, a new kind of drum 'n bass organ, and their Everly Brothers-esque vocals, their songs sound like the sound of Three.
PAGE A
01 Marie Ann
SIDE B
01 Don't Lie To Me
