Chocolate Weasel

Chocolate Weasel


Ninja Tune/Shadow

Imagine taking a really strong hit of acid and then crawling into the tire of a monster truck, and then rolling down a hill and back in time only to crash into the 1982 living rooms of Michael Jackson, Grand Master Flash, George Clinton, and a bunch of freaky English preachers. Find yourself digging their philosophies and beat grooves and whacked preaching and then crawling back into the tire of the monster truck and rolling to another time and place. You find yourself stuck in the television of middle America in the 1960s, only this ain’t no episode of The Wonder Years. You wake up to hear freaky voices and dubs and samples and beats that come and go, some danceable some not. You turn around and find yourself flying on a UFO about to crash into Earth, killing everyone on it, and you’re gonna taste their inanities, insecurities, thoughts, and feelings. You like, and yet, you’re terrified by it. You find yourself birthing Acid Jazz with Herbie Hancock and Sonny Stitt and John Patton in the 1970s. You find yourself smoking pot with Betty Crocker in the fifties. You’re eating Reagan and Thatcher’s leftovers at a dinner in the eighties. You’re in charge of the (gulp) future of music if you finish listening to the sickest trip hop ambient urban jungle old school freaky shit chop suey marsala highway stew of mystery beat every made into a rekid. Shadow Records, 111 E. 14th St. #334, New York, NY 10003

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