You know the sound. It starts with that pulsing, synthesized clavinet. Then comes the delay-drenched guitar riff, a hauntingly simple minor-key progression that feels like something massive is about to crest over the horizon. Even if you aren't a prog-rock fan—even if you've never heard of Alan Parsons—you’ve felt the adrenaline spike that Sirius by The Alan Parsons Project triggers in a packed arena.
It’s the sound of the 1990s Chicago Bulls. It’s the sound of Michael Jordan walking onto a court to dismantle an opponent’s soul.
But here’s the weird part: this wasn’t written for a basketball team. It wasn’t even written to be a standalone song. It was a happy accident born in a studio in 1982, a brief instrumental bridge designed to lead into a pop-rock track about a gambling addiction. Honestly, it’s kind of hilarious that one of the most intimidating pieces of music ever recorded was originally just a "palette cleanser" for a concept album based on Edgar Allan Poe and Philip K. Dick themes.
The Fairlight CMI and the Birth of a Legend
Alan Parsons wasn't just some guy in a band. He was the engineer for Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon. He was a technical wizard who lived at the intersection of high-fidelity audio and experimental technology. When he sat down to record the album Eye in the Sky, he was messing around with a Fairlight CMI (Computer Musical Instrument). This was 1982. This was the dawn of digital sampling.
The riff for Sirius by The Alan Parsons Project came from a basic clavinet sound processed through a rhythmic delay. Parsons has mentioned in several interviews, including chats with Prog Magazine, that he felt the album’s title track, "Eye in the Sky," needed a grander entrance. He needed something to set the mood.
The transition is seamless. If you listen to the radio edit of "Eye in the Sky," you’re missing the point. You have to hear the crossfade. The way the tension of Sirius dissolves into the smooth, soft-rock melody of the main hit is a masterclass in production. It’s light and dark. It’s the predator stalking, then the sun breaking through the clouds.
How a British Prog Track Conquered Chicago
So, how does a niche British studio project become the anthem for the greatest basketball dynasty in history? It wasn't a marketing executive in a suit. It was a guy named Tommy Edwards.
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Edwards was the public address announcer for the Chicago Bulls. In 1984, he was looking for something to spice up the player introductions. He heard "Sirius" while sitting in a movie theater—it was used in the background of a film—and he realized the tempo was perfect for a slow, rhythmic buildup.
It started small. But then, Michael Jordan arrived.
The lights would go down in the Chicago Stadium. That pulsating synth would begin. The smoke machines would kick in. By the time the drums hit, the crowd was already in a fever dream. The song became synonymous with dominance. It wasn't just music anymore; it was a psychological weapon. When opponents heard those first few bars, they knew they were about to lose.
Interestingly, Alan Parsons didn't even know his song was being used this way for years. He’s gone on record saying he was stunned to find out his studio experiment had become a global sports phenomenon. He doesn't mind, though. The royalties from sports stadiums probably paid for a few nice cars.
The Technical Brilliance Most People Miss
People think of "Sirius" as a simple loop. It’s not. There is a lot of nuance in how the track is layered.
The guitar work by Ian Bairnson is what gives it teeth. He used a heavy amount of processing to get that "liquid" tone. It’s not a "shreddy" solo; it’s a melodic atmospheric piece. The arrangement builds by adding layers of orchestration that feel almost cinematic. This is the influence of Andrew Powell, the orchestral arranger who worked closely with Parsons.
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If you listen closely, the track uses a very specific bpm (beats per minute) that mimics a resting heart rate that is slowly accelerating. It’s biological. It taps into your fight-or-flight response.
- The Pulse: The Fairlight CMI provides the rhythmic spine.
- The Atmosphere: Reverb-heavy guitar riffs create a sense of vast space.
- The Climax: The orchestral swell provides the "hero's journey" payoff.
Why It Still Works Forty Years Later
We live in an era of "trap" beats and high-energy EDM in stadiums. Yet, teams still go back to Sirius by The Alan Parsons Project. Why? Because it has "the build."
Most modern music starts at a level 10. There’s no mystery. "Sirius" starts at a level 2. It forces you to wait. It builds tension. In a world of instant gratification, that 110-second slow burn is a rarity. It creates a narrative before a single word is spoken or a single ball is bounced.
It’s been sampled by everyone from P. Diddy to various EDM producers. It’s been in The Last Dance documentary, which introduced it to a whole new generation of kids who never saw Jordan play live. It’s one of those rare pieces of music that has transcended its creator. Most people couldn't tell you who Eric Woolfson or Alan Parsons are, but they know that riff.
The "Eye in the Sky" Connection
You can't really talk about Sirius without talking about the song it leads into. The Eye in the Sky album was focused on themes of surveillance, belief systems, and the "big brother" concept.
The "Eye in the Sky" is the satellite, the god, the casino boss—the entity that sees everything but remains detached. "Sirius," named after the Dog Star, acts as the cosmic introduction to this theme. It sounds like the stars. It sounds like something watching from a great distance.
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When you hear it in a sports context, that "all-seeing" vibe translates to "total control." It’s the sound of a team that knows every move you’re going to make before you make it.
Applying the "Sirius" Logic to Your Own Creative Work
There is a lesson here for creators, musicians, and even business people.
- The Intro Matters: Don't just jump into your main point. Create a "Sirius" for your projects. Build the tension. Set the stage.
- Experiment with Tech: Parsons used the Fairlight CMI when it was brand new and buggy. Don't be afraid of the "new" thing.
- Happy Accidents: The song was a bridge, not a hit. Sometimes your best work is the stuff you did while trying to finish something else.
- Context is Everything: A prog-rock song can be a sports anthem. A business tool can be an art project. Don't pigeonhole your output.
If you want to truly appreciate the genius of this track, stop listening to it through crappy phone speakers. Put on a pair of high-quality headphones. Listen to the 2017 35th Anniversary Box Set or a high-res FLAC file. You'll hear the depth of the analog synths and the precision of the delay timings. It’s a piece of audio engineering that hasn't aged a day.
Go back and watch the 1997 NBA Finals intros on YouTube. Even through the grainy 480p footage and the screaming fans, the power of those 110 seconds is undeniable. It remains the gold standard for how music can define an era of human achievement.
To get the full experience, listen to the transition from Sirius directly into "Eye in the Sky" without any gaps. It changes how you perceive the energy of both songs. If you're a musician, try deconstructing the delay settings—it’s usually a dotted eighth note delay—to see how such a simple riff can sound so massive. Understanding the architecture of this track is the first step in understanding why some music fades away while other songs live forever in the rafters of every arena in the world.