The music of Christian Brock is the melodies of the nature; the summing of the hummingbird, the first fly of the ladybug on the very first day of spring, a summer rain where the drops fall playfully and tinglingly on the green leaves, and flowers sprout forth curiously before the journey begins: The music runs through the forest in a teasing, seducing and hopeful game, a dance which inevitably ends in the dense thicket, on a bed of soft moss where lips close around the smiling notes of someone you hold dearly.
Equally, the experience of encountering Christian Brock is as much a living experience where fingers and hands wander, swim and eventually fly up and down the guitar and contribute in creating the music almost as much as a conductor communicating the music through his own body as an orchestra and the music which ends as a piece where you almost forget that it is just a single man playing a single instrument.
The melodies of Christian Brock sings on their own as only the best melodies does: they levitate lightly above the perfectly still water and lets its one wing play easily alongside the water surface, the music generates life and motion from the still and silent.
The fact that his music is wordless and at the same time brings forth the nessecity to talk about it, the need to explain what is felt, what is seen and of course what has been heard, is a testament to the abilities of Christian Brock, as a wordless raconteur - a man, who in the true meaning of significance, enables himself to shape whole galaxies through the power of music.