I've still got the "Elevator to Eden" album on vinyl which I got in a random trade for some fanzines back in the late 80s. It seemed completely out of step at the time, but fits with the early 80s minimal, darkwave, Factory dance that has evolved into a celebration of a scene that wasn't there. The sound of a million Portastudios in sombre bedsits across the continent echo the pulse of insularity. Like the signals from the numbers stations, we heard you fleetingly but never understood.