SPIROS – ETERNAL.
Finally, I had arrived at the site of the ruin. I stood before the entrance to Passions, once the most sacred and revered discoteca in all Southern Italy. Tonight the air was oppressive – thick with the emptiness gathered across decades in abandonment. I took one last lungful of the briny air from the nearby Aegean Sea, and pushed aside the heavy, creaking doors. I was in the foyer. My footsteps echoed across marble floors as the doors slammed shut behind me. A frosty, silvery light filtered in through shingleless gaps in the roof that had long ago collapsed, illuminating the staircase before me. On either end of the stairs, yellowed marble carvings of the gods stood sentry, watching over me as I climbed, and stirred up clouds of dust. Once I neared the top of the stairs I heard an indistinct sound coming from behind the door. It was a rumbling bass, but muted, like a radio at the bottom of a pool. But, it couldn’t be. Not in this place. I was likely the first patron these statues have seen since the last neon lights fizzled out. Was someone else here, waiting for me? I placed my hand on the rusty door handle, pushed down, leaned my shoulder into the door, and it flew open – into a world beyond.
The club was full. Thousands of people, and not just any people – thousands of screaming, adoring fans filled the venue from wall to balcony, and from mezzanine to stage. Just as the crowd reached a fever pitch of anticipation, the silhouette of a man appeared amidst the blue, fog-drenched stage and the crowd erupted in a roar. The fog dissipated as he stepped through his shadow and spoke.
“My friends, good evening. I am SPIROS. And I Am Mix King! It has been long time, yes? Tonight I bring to you mix journey full of passion. The passion of lover who bathe in the fountains of SPIROS, of delicate flower of lover whose navel I graze like fruit of nectarine, the beauty of pain and loss, the Mediterranean Sea and grand villa of SPIROS, waves on sea shores of mist, of angels that sing through me. For I am SPIROS, and this is Eternal.”
Later that night after I had journeyed through the aether with the Mediterranean Phantom, everything – the thousands of adoring fans, the lasers, the smoke, the posters, the music, and SPIROS himself all faded into the inky black of the deep night, and all was once again dust and ruin.
††† SPIROS – ETERNAL †††
◊ Who is SPIROS? SPIROS is a Mediterranean phantom who creates a musical style as legend refers to as “way-slo”. This music is deeply enriched in passion and mystery. He’s been providing TNUC with music for the last 10 years. After listening to the new album ‘ETERNAL’, further your journey at this location. ◊
uncletnuc.com 
SPIROS is Forever will serve as ritual music for my upcoming sacrifices to the Mediterranean Gods of summer. What a collection.
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How many years have passed since SPIROS blessed us with his trilogy? I don’t know and frankly I don’t care since his latest output makes me believe in love again, even life itself has a hole other meaning now. I haven’t felt this free since prom in 1983 when I got to hold Jenna Eisenstein’s hand for the first time.
SPIROS came to me last night in a dream. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew it was him. I was overwhelmed with the urge to dance, to blow lines, and to slather myself in Drakkar Noir. When I awoke I caught a faint wisp of salt air from the Aegean Sea, it somehow traveling thousands of miles to my bedroom in California. I knew it had to mean something, and indeed it did. Compelled to find some guidance, I visited the land of TNUC and here it is: the return of SPIROS. Thanks again Uncle T, you are a true hero.
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