Replaced by a wall of sound with difference. Where each track had its own schtick. Producers were inventive, not derivative. Creative not crap. Where promoters talked about the epic warm up from last night, not how hot the chicks were.
A world where the ghetto funk of tunes like “Cymbal Play” and “Ghostrider” were the norm and not outstanding.
But then I woke up and realized magnesium tablets give u whacky dreams.
So long live Kyle Watson. For he is truly a man from that “dream land” and his EP on Club Sweat is testament to good ol jackin club music!
And we love it.