The death of Mediafire has pretty much killed the primitive past. Sorry guys. E-mail me if there's something in particular that you want and I'll see if I can get you what you're looking for.
All I think about all day is music, and I want you to benefit from my obsessive music listening habit. Updates a few times a month.
I post records that I actually listen to regularly in my real life. Obscurity for obscurity's sake bores me, as does cheap genre imitation that lacks content. You'd be right to expect something wonderful from everything that ends up on here.
Flawless dance/disco record. Bangers and mash front to back (not a bad track on here). This thing has burned the disco in my head out over and over and over again. Maybe I will post a September record at some point too, hmmmm. Not much to say here other than get this immediately and fuck life-haters.
Some people might make up ideas about the relative value of art music and dance music, but Giorgio Moroder is here to show you that, in the future, all such distinctions melt away under the austere pump of his drum machine. Chunks of this album are mixed together as a long track, enabling you to pretend that you are at a cool sunglasses party with ladies, and that the thump of the bassdrum is blood flowing to your big boner.
The opening/title track is structured like a conventional pop song, but then the coolest thing is that the next two tracks are free-form disco bombardments of variations on a main theme from the first song. After a quick little upbeat boner-tickler which functions basically in the same way as a conventional bridge, the first song is brought back for a final jam out. Also, I'm Left, You're Right, She's Gone is not only a showcase for clever wordplay and vocoder overuse, it is another great pop song based on a variation of that same theme that keeps popping up. This record is an example of having a vision, and fucking executing it. In the future.
Flawless dance/disco record. Bangers and mash front to back (not a bad track on here). This thing has burned the disco in my head out over and over and over again. Maybe I will post a September record at some point too, hmmmm. Not much to say here other than get this immediately and fuck life-haters.
Some people might make up ideas about the relative value of art music and dance music, but Giorgio Moroder is here to show you that, in the future, all such distinctions melt away under the austere pump of his drum machine. Chunks of this album are mixed together as a long track, enabling you to pretend that you are at a cool sunglasses party with ladies, and that the thump of the bassdrum is blood flowing to your big boner.
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