Two years have gone by since the MERRICKS released their so far most successful album THE SOUND OF MUNICH. Their skillful fusion of a classic popsong approach with Munich disco-reflections brought them new friends and opened up new possibilities for them: They got the chance to interview the legendary Amanda Lear for a leading German music magazine and finally got the long deserved record deal in Japan. Maybe the best representation of the development the MERRICKS have gone through between THE SOUND OF MUNICH and ESCAPE FROM PLANET MUNICH is the ingenious cover artwork by former ‘Der Plan’ member Moritz R.: while the cover of their last album was dominated by the futuristic 70ies architecture of Munichs “Schwabylon”, the silhouette of Munichs Olympiazentrum has vanished way into the background. The cover shows a mysterious (MERRICKS-) world seemingly protected by three Tiki figures. The listener can picture him/herself as being the driver of the strange unrealistic red limousine. Attracted by this weird scenery he wants to communicate with this promising world. ESCAPE FROM PLANET MUNICH combines the strange elements of their early works (horn sections!) with the clear pop-orientation of THE SOUND OF MUNICH. The intro reminiscent of „Schwabing Girls" is followed by an almost programmatic cover version of FSK’s „Move Ahead": „Move Ahead. And your ass will follow." „Let’s get stupid" tries to construct a stupidity which is not stupid; a paradox only at first sight (if you want, one of the central topics of this record). Musically a real piece of MERRICKS-pop. The threatening sound of a ringing telephone in „Nenn es nicht Liebe" (“Don’t call it love”) reveals the dark-psychedelic side in the MERRICKS. In „Ne Travaillez Jamais" the French popstar Ariel Wizman quotes a situationist slogan, appealing to the youth to stop working. „Slackers Paradise" basically adds up to a similar message only that this one is an instrumental. The rather stoical song „Rock Espacial", sung in Spanish, shows the MERRICKS belief in contemporary popmusic, that goes beyond retro-categories. The last song „Grauesel Nr.17" (“Grey Mule nr.17”) is a lament on the near extinction of the andalusian mule, which is fused with longing „Und ich wollt du wärst hier" (“I wish you were here”) sighs, whispered through a vocoder, finally mutating into a kind of folk lovesong. What a touching end to a record that would deserve its place in history as a manifest of a „New Strangeness". And to all of you who still feel like this driver of the red limousine on the frontcover of the album after listening to it several times: even if the conversation at the wall will possibly never give him any final insights into the strange world beyond; he probably won’t be able to do anything else but return to this place again and again....