SwitzerlandPatrick Moraz

Artist rating: 63.11 % (ranking: not set)
Highest rating: 85.06 % (1976)
Most recent trend: 42.48 % (1987)
Highest trend: 90.91 % (1976)

Tracks (A-Ö)
Writing credits


Born: 1948-06-24

Age: 74

External links

Official site


Associated artists

The Moody Blues (5), Steve Howe (2), Yes (2), Refugee (1), Chris Squire (1)

61.74 %
66.38 %

Story of I

Patrick Moraz - Story of I
96.75 %
Date released: 1976
Type: studio

In collection: Vinyl/CD
Average track length: 03:18
Average track rating:


Patrick Moraz:
Year (1976):
Decade (1970's):



The Story of I

Located on a plateau, surrounded by a jungle of strange vegetation and animals, stands a building, i.

An 'hotel' offering to people of all creeds, colours and sexes the realisation of their impossible dreams, people united only in the search of the ultimate experience.

i stands for initiation, identity, idealism, interpretation, illumination, immortality, infinity...

The building is controlled by a sphere hovering overhead, within which is stored all information on the emotions, sentiments and sensations of all the people in the various rooms.

From all over the world people are attracted to this centre. The bait is the possibility of experiences way beyond normal existence - they are offered the fulfillment of all their dreams, all their hopes, all their secret ambitions and desires. And they flock in, the disappointed, those who have realised that any hope of development and personal fulfillment in the outside world is forever gone, that their futures are as barren as their boring presents.

The only price is the same as the reward: - life itself. For if, after careful screening, the applicant is allowed to take part in the various 'games' on the different floors - after he has continued through his own idealised situations he will die. This has been, until this story starts, irrevocable.

However, there is a key - a key which so far has not been found - a possibility to escape.

After he has entered the building, the searcher can only go up. He must rise through sensations of ever increasing magnitude, artificial situations of greater and greater challenge. Some, despite the delicately beneficial manoeuvring of the omniscient sphere, which can slightly aid when difficulties become too great, surpass the abilities of the individual. However, he MUST rise, conquering all obstacles, learning his own final limits, and he can never turn back. He sets his own pace for the ascent, it may take years for the completion of the course, but there is only one direction for him.

All the while the progess, his feelings, everything he does and is, is monitored by the overhead globe - each despair, when the problems seem insurmountable, each surge of triumph over victory, his pains, his lusts, his pleasures, his ecstasies, are recorded, electronically stored, and the best sensations transmitted for the most popular entertainment of the rest of the world. And, seven times each year, the winners of the floors, those who have successfully completed the course, are pushed out onto the diving board by the attendants, to plunge in a few minutes the distance it has taken years to mount.

The ground onto which the bodies fall is transparent, and reduces every body instantly to its component atomes. Below, stretching deep beneath the earth, is another, similar building, like a reflection of the one towering above. There, the reconstituted diver will experience the inverse of the previous conditions.

Somewhere, sometime in the building a man and a woman meet and fall in love, deeply, truly, completely. Sometimes they go through the games and tests together, sometimes they are separated, sometimes during the games they are paired with others, sometimes they compete with each other - but always they are in love, and they are determined that their final sacrifice shall be together. So they rise, and approach the top.

The days of sacrifice, the payment of the ultimate price, life, are always popular. People gather to watch their favourite heroes, whose developments have been recorded and electronically relayed for so long, to take the final step... the end of illusion. But on this particular day all the world waits for the final episode in the love story they have been witnessing for so long, as never before have two people together reached the top. The pair link hands and walk over the crowds, along a narrow plank. Every touch of a apprehension, all their mutual adoration and deep feeling of love for each other, is amplified and relayed to the attentive millions. At the very end of the diving board, they look once at each other and take the final step.

And the crowd watches in awe, as the two figures, already dwarfed by the distance, rise from the end of the board and, carried by their love, vanish into the skies.

Original story by Patrick Moraz



11Patrick Moraz (27)
keyboards, piano, synthesizers, organ, marimbaphone, additional assorted percussion

Session works

4Andy Newmark (25)
drums (8-14)



Warmer Hands
A sorcery of light and shade
Goes ringing on inside
Fallen like an angel
Crying out with pride.

Melancholy - menacing
Waiting for survivors
I'm not the one to cry
They can't all be liars.

Cold hearts - colder days
Wait for the storm.
The Storm
Cachaça (Baião)

Hear the joker
Now his times run dry
And another dog
Has hit the dust
And smiling all the way
Has travelled here at last to cry
'My youth is far behind me -
But my mind is still alive'.


Moi je suis la voix de l'eau de la
Bulle irisée de l'univers,
Et je me demande qui va vers
La destinée de l'au-delà
Bulle irisée de l'infini.

Misty-eyed and shrouded
We fell learning to the floor
While others called out softly
I can't go anymore.

Stumbling in illusion
And with no-one there to lead
Shifty-eyed and cold inside
We all began to plead.
Best Years of Our Lives
Morning will break
When we awake
Oh, I'll thank you for asking
We are passing through
The best years of our lives

Different vices
Overrun me
When I'm down
And I can't get up
Is someone there to pick up the pieces?

We have our lives
And in our eyes
Nothing is wasted
For there's no time
To throw away another day

Finally running
We have the feeling
Nothing will change
Or try to tear us apart
Oh I need you, yes, I need you
I need you in the morning

Different vices
They try to break me
But when I'm up
I just can't get down
And there you are
You have picked up the pieces

Morning has broken
And as we awake
Oh I thank you for saying
Oh I need you, yes, I need you
In the best years of our lives.
Incantation (Procession)
Dancing Now
Watch the doorman
As he rubs at his hands
Grimly stamps his feet
Looking down the street.
Tables and bibles
Hookers line the wall
Whisky glasses -
A darkness in the hall.

Let me take you in my arms
And treat you like a child
Women and lovers
Reckless and wild
As you light the way ahead
With the beacon of your smile
Love is in reunion
Now I've understood your style
And we are changing - feels so strange
To be dancing now.

Curiously restless
We looked at the wall
Then at the ceiling
While out in the hall.

There's nothing new
Except what has been forgotten.

Slipping sideways
I can't look down
Heart turns over
While we fool around.

There's nothing new
Except what has been forgotten.

Slipping sideways
I can't look down
Heart turns over
While we fool around.

How could you
When I'm really shining
Rip this heart
In its silver lining.
But I'm Fred Astaire
And I really don't care
I'm dancing now.
Impressions (The Dream)
Like a Child in Disguise
Think that today
I'll go down by the sea
Think that today -
It was made for me.
Pack myself a lunch
And I will pack myself ahead
All today is Saturday
I'll spend Sunday in bed.
And I'm so glad
That you've decided to come
You won't regret it
As we lunch in the sun.

I'm a loser, but I know how to play the game
Couldn't she see that I'm a child in disguise
Experience makes the child grow wise.

(Here I am stuck in the middle with you)
(You give me rest and no complaints.)

Drawing little boxes
On pieces of paper
Looking out the window
On this rainy day
Head in hands
And with nothing to say
Except - I'm the loser and I know how I played that game

And I think that I lost it
When all I wanted to do
Was touch you
I suppose you didn't think that much of me

Couldn't she see that I'm a child in disguise -
And experience makes the child grow wise.

Off to work tomorrow
Same old week
Still there's always Saturday -
Saturday makes the week.
Rise and Fall
Symphony in Space