In the organizer's words:

MOLA - that's unmentionables à la "Mama, I don't want to be a mama" freely and solemnly belted out to the world; that's the dramatically charged last fag; that's intoxicated flying and intoxicated falling. MOLA - these are snappy gutter pop earworms and heartbreaking soul ballads that smell of punk leather jackets; these are pathos-soaked Italo crooners in a thunderstorm, these are bittersweet symphonies from the indie rock rumble cellar. MOLA - that's Isabella Streifeneder's sometimes crumpled, sometimes gloriously roaring vocal bows; that's catchy, barbed guitar riffs, squeaking synths and dusty drums; that's the unmistakable signature of eight-armed multi-instrumentalist and producer Markus Sebastian Harbauer. MOLA - these are either wistful, merciful or gallows-humorous hymns to crumbling dreams, escapades, the crappiness of things and life without a driver's license; these are brusque punchlines against the lies of adults, these are tussles with one's own heart, this is "all great or all the same". MOLA - that's a red heart vomiting, monster-like creature with poisonous green eyes; that's radical friction, that's "Snow in Summer", that's "Love Brutal".