Markus Karlus and Kevin Rodgers first met in the early '90s, while studying Music at the University of Saarbrücken, Luxembourg. It did not take long for them to start working together in several projects, specially in the field of electro-electronic serial music, a passion they shared. To reach these goals, they spent years and years researching and collecting a large amount of instruments, machines, and all sorts of electro-electronic devices capable of generating audible or inaudible frequencies, as well as several computers that would help them achieve their ultimate musical goal: the largest serial piece ever made, built around calculations of the number Pi that went beyond the mark of 1 billion digits. During one of these searches for the necessary equipment, the two buddies came across a small Macintosh 128k, which, mainly because of its historical value, was immediately adopted. Little did they know that the harmlessly-looking little classic had concealed in its innards a virus, hibernating ever since the computer had been shut down for the last time, in 1989. When they became aware of the fact, it was too late. The little Mac had already been connected to the rest of the studio machinery, and the barely awaken virus had spread throughout all the audio-visual complex that Markus Karlus and Kevin Rodgers had so diligently assembled.

Little is known about this virus besides the name with which it introduced itself to the befuddled aspirant composers: Golden Shower. Perhaps the long hibernation, or even the shock of being dragged out of that state after almost 10 years had corrupted its original code. The truth is that nobody knew when, or by whom, neither with which purpose it was created. Nevertheless, the virus still possessed a large amount of information regarding the pop culture of the '80s, gathered during its active days. Based on this knowledge, it analysed the whole cultural environment of the late '90s, and apparently it wasn't happy with what it saw. It's likely that upon suddenly figuring itself completely out of its time, Golden Shower suffered a second and definitive shock, a shock that twisted its character for good. It became a severely megalomaniac piece of binary code, with a single purpose from that moment on: reshaping the world around it based on the only cultural references it had, sending the planet back into an age of darkness and ignorance that mankind thought completely gone since the unmasking of Milli-Vanilli: the '80s.

And the instruments with which Golden Shower would put that dreadful operation in motion was right there before it: the overwhelmed Markus Karlus and Kevin Rodgers. Under the threat of having all the calculations for their composition, stored on the course of years of hard work, mercilessly deleted, they didn't have any other choice but to submit to the virus' will, becoming their agents for the first step towards world domination: the pop (from popular) music territory. Due to their immense musical talent, and a flawless mastery of the pop-ular music vocabulary sharpened during their stint as arrangers and session musicians for a recording studio specialized in yodelling boy bands, the duo couldn't have been a better choice for a human front for Golden Shower's intent, those who would translate its obsession with the '80s into insidiously catchy tunes.

And this is just the beginning. Once successful in taking over pop-ular music, the Golden Shower virus will have no difficulty in spreading throughout other areas such as the movies, TV, the press, design and the toys and electronic games industry. Political scientists fear the return of the Cold War and a world once again split between Corey Feldman and Corey Haim. And in the meantime the unfortunate Markus Karlus and Kevin Rodgers, who inadvertedly started the whole mess, would just like to be taken seriously as classical composers.