“Moonshine” by The Möbius Trip, The Full Story . . . or, How to Rock a Digitech Space Station

The Möbius Trip album “Prime Numbers” is available on Apple Music, Spotify, YouTube Music, and Deezer.

Apocalyptic post-rock country. Not sure what my subconscious was going through when this idea first arose in my mind. I think it might have been a premonition of the underrated film, The Book of Eli (2010), starring Denzel Washington. (The Möbius Trip completed the song in 2012, but it was conceived years before.) A New Testament world judged with Old Testament grit.

The guitar solo on this cut is taken from my original demo for the tune. It all started many years ago . . . cue harp arpeggios and blurring field of vision . . .

My friend, guitar virtuoso Patrick Butler, had recently loaned me his DigiTech Space Station XP 300 Guitar Effect Pedal. This pedal is like a Pandora’s Box of mellifluicity. Turn it on and delightfully schizoid sounds start pouring out, almost on their own. Butler’s one request: “You can hang onto this for a while, just don’t use the expression pedal, guy. You won’t really need that anyway, and I don’t want it wearing out.”

“Sure. No problem, Butler.”

I waved goodbye to Butler from my porch. His 80’s era Chevy van hadn’t even turned the corner before I started rocking that thing — foot firmly planted on the expression pedal.

I worked that Space Station over non-stop. Played it for fun. Played it for friends. Played it on recordings. It was like the first time you discover distortion: Everything you bash out on your guitar will be caked in thick, muddy fuzz far into the future. I was in love.

By the way, the expression pedal is the coolest part of the Space Station. It lets you shape all these otherworldly sounds, like mid-era Radiohead crammed through a euphoria factory — psychedelic, frenetic, angelic exhalations. I would link you to some cats demonstrating the pedal on YouTube, but no offense, they haven’t figured it out yet. You gotta get obsessed. You gotta go mad scientist in the wee hours of night and early moments of dawn. You gotta call in sick to work the next day because money can’t compensate for the tasty, multi-dimensional sonic syrup oozing out of your amp. You gotta follow the lead of this unhinged beast and see where it leads. It could get scary, but the Space Station’s not for the faint of heart.

About a year after my relationship with the Space Station began, Butler remembered that I still had it, and he wanted it back. I stalled for awhile: “Bro, you might as well let me keep the Space Station. I put my fingerprints all over that thang. It’s a signature sound issue now. And the signature is mine.” He wasn’t buying it. Butler’s from Jersey, and he was on my porch flexing that East Coast vibe on me — it was time to pay the fiddler. The Space Station was confiscated, out of my life just as quickly as she entered it. I was heartbroken.

I got a call later that night. “The pedal’s squeaking! You wore this thing out. I warned you, Coons!”

Oops.

By the way, for the curious, the Space Station was discontinued years ago. You can find a used, broken unit on eBay for about two hundy. I haven’t touched a Space Station since that fateful day in the mid-2000’s, though I recently signed a petition to help bring this musical miracle back into production.

But, before that joy machine left my clutches, I had the privilege of dropping a few tracks with it.

. . . cue harp arpeggios and blurring field of vision . . . 

One of those recipients of the Space Station magic is “Moonshine,” starring the artist recently dubbed “Super Being” (by our drummer’s son) — Aaron Baker — on lead vocals and barn burning slide. (I questionably convinced him to let me share the mic on choruses for this one.) If you hear celestial sounds on the guitar solo (including mischievous arpeggio trails in the background) and like it, thank Butler for letting me borrow his Space Station.

To Butler, I’m sorry I abused your pedal. To musical posterity, dig . . . 

Words and Music by Sean Coons and Aaron Baker

You got the world on a grid,
Locked down and electrified
And your pill-pushin’ priestess
Televised suckin’ minds, oh my
I got my hand in the air, hope you
Read between the lines . . . 
Reach for that moonshine, so fine
Distilled for your soul
It’s got you runnin’ ’round crazy
Diggin’ graves n’ pokin’ holes
Your Brave New World’s the same old lie
No “I”

Before you high five,
You better read me my rights
Seven temple tablets
Falling from the sky don’t lie
Better read
Read between those lines . . . 

Reach for your moonshine, so fine
Distilled for your soul
It’s got you runnin’ ’round crazy
Sick and stoned
Your Brave New World’s the same old lie
And I . . . 

Suck down that moonshine, so fine
Distilled for your soul
It’s got you runnin’ ’round crazy
Sick and stoned
Your Brave New World’s the same old lie
And I’m . . . 

. . . waiting for you
He will destroy you
I’m ready for you
You’ve been warned
You better find the light!