Me, too. Perks of living in a neighborhood where we throw up an orans every time the kitchen light comes on on the first try. Candle Strut, mother fathers.
Just don't put too many heaters on the platter come 8/12. It's my first time flying solo in public. Happy 16th, bud.
Terlet as oracle. I'm feeling that. (Q:"What does the future hold?" A:"Sploosh!")
Here's a rough distillation of my first dozen or so conversations with meaty:
"Hey, meaty, what's g--"
"Hey, James, do you have any local stuff--like Chicago soul or Chicago rap--that you'd be interested in trading or selling?"
One hungry motherfucker, that guy. Herculean grind. I knew his small records and big mixes before I knew him, second 'strutter I ever met out in the world (mere seconds after I met Sketch), and he's always been a real cool dude. There is much going on under his hood.
Also, if there is ever any cause to stage a Hollywood re-enactment of some Chicago-based digging-related calamity, I would submit that the part of meatyogre be played by a lightly-rouged Casey Affleck.
But yeah, a belated Happy Birthday, dude. Peace upon you and yours and your recent yours, too.
Let's not forget that Meaty is also one of the super-illest drum programmers out there. It's just intuition for this dude.
Ahh...I just had a great memory:
Dreas and I were scarfing Mickey D's on the way to Meaty's crib when he lived with White Lightning and crew. We finally found a parking spot and I walked up into the crib, trying to hold my skull in place after seeing Ross' Fender Rhodes Suitcase '73 in the living room, basking in full Chicago sunlight. After checking out some records in Meaty's room while he worked the fader, scratching with imaginative endlessness; I crept out to the Rhodes and laid my hands on the keys for the first time. I froze, forgetting nearly everything I knew about tickling the ivories, in the presense of something so awesome. Then Meaty stepped past me and took his seat on the drumset throne, to bang underneath my feeble attempt to mimic Lonnie Liston Smith.
Comments
Me, too. Perks of living in a neighborhood where we throw up an orans every time the kitchen light comes on on the first try. Candle Strut, mother fathers.
Just don't put too many heaters on the platter come 8/12. It's my first time flying solo in public. Happy 16th, bud.
Terlet as oracle. I'm feeling that. (Q:"What does the future hold?" A:"Sploosh!")
Here's a rough distillation of my first dozen or so conversations with meaty:
"Hey, meaty, what's g--"
"Hey, James, do you have any local stuff--like Chicago soul or Chicago rap--that you'd be interested in trading or selling?"
One hungry motherfucker, that guy. Herculean grind. I knew his small records and big mixes before I knew him, second 'strutter I ever met out in the world (mere seconds after I met Sketch), and he's always been a real cool dude. There is much going on under his hood.
Also, if there is ever any cause to stage a Hollywood re-enactment of some Chicago-based digging-related calamity, I would submit that the part of meatyogre be played by a lightly-rouged Casey Affleck.
But yeah, a belated Happy Birthday, dude. Peace upon you and yours and your recent yours, too.
Keep rollin' holmes!
It's just intuition for this dude.
Ahh...I just had a great memory:
Dreas and I were scarfing Mickey D's on the way to Meaty's crib when he lived with White Lightning and crew. We finally found a parking spot and I walked up into the crib, trying to hold my skull in place after seeing Ross' Fender Rhodes Suitcase '73 in the living room, basking in full Chicago sunlight. After checking out some records in Meaty's room while he worked the fader, scratching with imaginative endlessness; I crept out to the Rhodes and laid my hands on the keys for the first time. I froze, forgetting nearly everything I knew about tickling the ivories, in the presense of something so awesome. Then Meaty stepped past me and took his seat on the drumset throne, to bang underneath my feeble attempt to mimic Lonnie Liston Smith.
happy birthday on the belated tip.
you'll have to learn me on this boba tea jumpoff.