1992 was my second year of college. I was pretty much ditching any class that wasn't art or philosophy related. The small community college I was attending had its own dedicated building to the arts. It was an old rail station that sat mere feet from active train tracks. When a train would roar by it vibrated our drawing pads and photographic chemical baths. I spent long hours in that studio building, it made me feel important and I'd imagine that alongside the few serious art students attending that we were part of a movement. It was fitting that our drawing professor would play this pulsing funk/soul beast of a record to get us to give our movements a soundtrack. She was a bespectacled Brooklyn bohemian type and would allow us to play our own music on the radio tucked in the corner of the large open drawing studio, but on days where she meant business she would deliberately walk across the floor past our nude model and with a few clicks of the cd player door we'd be bobbing our heads in unison amongst the smell of large pads of newsprint and charcoal.
This behemoth of rhythm's title track introduced me to one of my favorite lyrics: "I don't know karate, but I know ka-ray-zay!" The songs are long and the tribal repetition makes for a great backdrop to figure drawing. An excersize in which you draw with your shoulder, swinging your arm in large arcs. You draw with movement. #jamesbrown would give that movement grit. A backdrop of carnal pulsing. Seriously, this album makes any chore or task sweaty. It's been a favorite of mine since it was introduced to me
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