Se we’ve been working hard into this visual rejig of ye olde 20jazzfunkgreats site which is going to make you people, and I say this seriously, make you people go bonza. Well, Stuart has been working hard, I’ve been partying at Sonar, but it was all for the blog as you’d of course expect, I’m a devoted monk of the church of 20jazzsaintgreats. Anyhow, we’ve been working so hard this week has been kind of devoid of posts, which is a total sucker, I apologise wholeheartedly, and you probably think, whatever, who cares about your apologies, give me some hot tunes or else, well kid, it’s my pleasure, there you have a suit of aces for your solsticial delight, enjoy and receive love brought over by tidy pigeons from a small town in the heart of Castille, brap.
Don’t shoot the pigeons. And care.
We posted Sorcerer some time ago, he had totally seduced us with one of those slo-mo kosmische soul numbers that makes you think of convertible clouds surfing over the dunes of the Californian desert searching for a Tangerine mirage, well, he’s on wax now thanks to the lovely people at Tirk, and you better hurry up and grab yourself a copy of this sweet like tropicana slice of S. Crockett wistful synth funk, which comes with a bubbly Prins Thomas remix on the flip, its sunny melodies spread like neon lights refracting ad infinitum in the quiet waters of the harbor, while you sit wetting your pinkies wondering about what the fuck to do with your life, summer does this to people of a certain sensibility, and in spite of growing health concerns, a cigarrette dangling from your lips is aesthetically appropriate while you engage in such sun-fuelled episodes of existentialist melancholy.
Prins Thomas, who we just mentioned is releasing a double cd on Eskimo on Monday,it goes by the name of Galactic Cosmo Prism and it does exactly what it says in the label, what, you ask, hum, how’d I explain? Space trip slower than the speed of marihuana into some weird multi-coloured aurora borealis superhighway with the playboy mansion on one side and that weird mirror Tangerine Dream jumped through to float into space on the other? Can you dig it? Come on, please.
Just two examples of the extremes of blinding awesomeness you’re bound to find in this psychedelic excursion into the realms of magical fantasy, first a catatonic piece of chamber lounge funk by Crue-L Grand Orchestra which makes one think of Holger Czukay shooting dice by the massive kidney shaped pink pool, it goes with white shorts, tennis-socks, gold medallions and cigarette holders…
And Visnadi’s high octane customised disco hot rod driven by fucking Burt Reynolds chewing on a cuban cigar no less as he drives furious zig zag down scorched spirals of concrete to bust your sorry ass with pink chrome bumpers while cruel fire devils feast spasmodically on the sides of the road.
Pound for Pound posted this some time ago, go there and holler.
The rest is as good as this, buster, so haul your dollars to the store and grease the wheels of the kosmische disco making machine.
And let us end the party with some soulful piece of percussive latin mayhem as epically edited by that disco conoisseur cool cat Lee Douglas for Lovefingers, I think, if Sergio Leone had decided to shoot a gangsta remake of el Topo in Nu Yorica circa 1979 this tune would have been perfect for the high noon duel with the moustache invulnerable guy.
Pure creole voodoo funk and I’m off now, next time I write it’ll be from the UK away from Bongo, *sobs*.
But before that, the kind people at Dazed and Confused has put us in their top 50 for pootersites, which is nice, you can go here and vote for us with five death stars if you like what we do, it’d be well sweet, thank you & have a lovely weekend!!