He was a legend. But nobody knows who the good man really was: Nico Mecca. An Italian who turned his penchant for limoncello into pathos after three sips on the synthesiser, where he penetrated the white keys in the intoxication of sugar. Periodica, the Neapolitan maestro label for funk and sparkle from a time when one was still allowed to loll about on the Amalfi Coast like a carcinogenic toast, hits the reissue twelve again with »Floppy Computer«. The unknown producer, the lost master tapes, the surprising find after more than 30 years – all this could also be a wonderful marketing stunt by people who traipse around in their fathers’ old jeans because it’s really retro and all that. But what difference would it make if Nico Mecca were to spring solely from the sensation of a past that never happened? The real past has long caught up with us anyway. Somewhere between Kraftwerk’s Autobahn and Mort Garson’s Greenhouse, Nico Mecca’s record sounds like a psychedelic day trip to Mount Vesuvius. Alone, in pairs, with Werner Herzog into the inferno and: In any case, with fun under your sandals!