This track was a Top Ten R&B track in 1978, and the title song off Faze-O’s debut album, and came to my consciousness because it was one of them old school funk songs that DJ Screw loved to throw on a grey tape from time to time. As the internet digitized all those old grey tapes, it got mistakenly labeled as Rick James, not Faze-O, so for years, when I bumped this on an old eyephone turned into retro eyepod due to it being obsolete as a smart phone already, the yakubian data contained therein always acted like it was Rick James playing this song. At some point somewhere over the past decade of my life, I came across a 45 copy of the Faze-O original, I grabbed the fuck out of it. A clean copy, too. Since then, Galaxy Sound issued an “edit” which is new-fangled talk for bootleg, and I got that too, but I still play the original whenever I’m doing a slowed down set of Screw’s favorite old funk jams, like this, “Don’t Stop the Music” by Yarborough & Peoples, “I’m Comin’ Out” by Diana Ross, and others I ain’t thinking about right now, I go with the old dusty original, always. I’m pretty old and dusty myself, and ain’t nobody making no edits of me. But this song is such a sweet banger of a track slowed down.
FYI, whenever I write about one of these 45s I’ve ripped, I find some old ass footage somewhere to make a video for the background, rather than using automated bullshit. This is just some old history cartoon I found on archive.org, and I always pink/purple neon out the color aesthetic, and throw that Southern Gothicc Futurism tag at the bottom. Layers upon layers of nonsense processes, that nobody ever sees or knows about, just like Screw slowing down his 4-track recordings into a Maxell dub deck. I love a good chaos agent of creative bullshit. And even in the age of artificial intelligence, us chaos agents will always keep riding on a higher vibration than the minimalist predictable output that comes out one of those things. To create fucked up shit is to be godly; to type prompts into a computer is to be a reactionary dullard. You might love how some of the shit you’re throwing at the wall is sticking, but you’re still just throwing shit at the wall.
FYI, whenever I write about one of these 45s I’ve ripped, I find some old ass footage somewhere to make a video for the background, rather than using automated bullshit. This is just some old history cartoon I found on archive.org, and I always pink/purple neon out the color aesthetic, and throw that Southern Gothicc Futurism tag at the bottom. Layers upon layers of nonsense processes, that nobody ever sees or knows about, just like Screw slowing down his 4-track recordings into a Maxell dub deck. I love a good chaos agent of creative bullshit. And even in the age of artificial intelligence, us chaos agents will always keep riding on a higher vibration than the minimalist predictable output that comes out one of those things. To create fucked up shit is to be godly; to type prompts into a computer is to be a reactionary dullard. You might love how some of the shit you’re throwing at the wall is sticking, but you’re still just throwing shit at the wall.
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