An altruistic dark side of the moon proposition, Eta Carinae is a star 120-150 times the size of our own sun that lies a mere 7000+ light years from this island Earth. Discovered by no less than Edmond Halley his bad self in the late 17th century, Eta Carinae has been observed to fluctuate between telescopic and naked eye proportions over the past 3 centuries. Eta Carinae is in the last throes of its long life, with only about another 100,000 or so years to go before a likely supernova. It seems fitting that one of the most majestic and awesome of the celestial bodies should be serenaded by someone. Orbit Service have certainly taken space, the atom mother, to heart in this progressive ode. And like the star in their eyes the album expands and contracts from white hot to blue cool. The resultant cosmic astro-dirge howls in a bubbly flurry of electro-buzz and slowly pulsing drumbeats. Vocal whispers rise into muted wails, pushing against the very fabric of firmament itself before being drawn back into the gaseous miasma of the star-field. Violence and silence interlaced, as in the life of a sun. Or in the life of a son. The lyrics cast shadows on the stuff of terra firma and of the heart as well, making this just as much about inner space. Orbit Service's cris de coeur is a shaded psychedelic parallectrogram that almost answers the question: what if the star baby at the end of '2001: A Space Odyssey' was the product of Thom Yorke and Roger Waters?. Orbit Service at your service. Wish you were here...