For decades, it was the phantom album - the one that might have been, could have been, but never was. Whispers of its existence have haunted the stories of a time when German music stood at the precipice of reinvention, embracing a wild sense of new beginnings. The mystery of Front fit the mood perfectly. No interviews, no photos, no spotlight, just music, as elusive as the band itself.

The Resurrection. Forty years passed. The surviving members w ere having dinner with Andreas Dorau when the conversation turned to Front. Godehard Buschkühl, their guitarist, had recently passed away, and the mood was heavy. Then Dorau spoke up: That album. It has to finally be released. The words sparked a search. Zimmermann unearthed an old, dusty reel of tape — a forgotten multitrack recording from 1981, captured on a Grundig TK845. The same pioneering technique that allowed the Beatles to layer sound had preserved Front’s lost demos in their raw, unpolished glory. What followed was a painstaking two - year restoration effort. The band pieced the album together, track by track. Toward the end, AI technology stepped in, helping refine the fragile audio while preserving its analog soul. What emerged wasn’t just a collection of songs; it was a time capsule, a glimpse into the moment when Front was poised to change everything before vanishing. And now, after all these years, Front’s long rumored album is here. Fresh, urgent, and full of the restless energy that defined an era. But this album isn’t just a resurrection; it’s a revelation. It’s proof that even the most fleeting bands can leave behind something eternal. Is this the end of Front’s story, or the beginning of a new chapter? Who knows?