I really shouldn't be writing this right now.

It's not that this is a bad song. This is a very good song. A very very good song. When I thought about what I'd write for this week's Mr. Newstyle, this was the song that came to mind. But it's a djpretzel song and I just did a djpretzel song. And what's more it's a song that, by the artist's own admission, is very thematically similar to a previous mix. Well, I guess two months free of djpretzel is just something that I don't really care to go through.

So here we are. With my recent finishing of my college education, I find myself entrenched deep in a murky quagmire. I have cast off the responsibilities of school, but have not yet assumed the mantle of adulthood by securing for myself a full time occupation. Thus, my responsibilties as of late have been: Final Fantasy Tactics, copious amounts of music on Compact Disc, and beer (not necessarily in that order). It was while participating in two of those activities (I'll let you guess which) that I stumbled upon a lost love of mine. On a disc fitfully entitled "This CD has Bikini Kill On It" the formative track was one that I found intimately familiar: this very song!

I was momentarily able to ignore the specious logic of my former self that allowed me to put a seminal 80s riot grrl band next to an internet remixer's video game song. When the first beats and screech came out of my stereo system there was nothing but a wave of pleasure washing over to me. There's no paucity of funky bass in this song, but when it hits 0'18 magic really starts happening. After a brief interlude with the screeching -- and vocal samples I can only imagine belong to "the man" himself -- the 0'37 - 1'08 section douses us again in the bass that must be known as "Lord Bass" the heaviest of all basses. At 1'24, the plucky little fellow turns his pitch up and from 1'44 - 2'18 it's really given time to shine. While grim foreboding, the finality of 2'49 hits us hard. Return to us again, the screeching and the vocals! They have come to take us to a better place, but I beg you... take us there with nothing but the utmost...

IN FUNK.

But Could I Drive To This?: Listening to this song I was suddenly I was transported to nostalgic memories of years gone by. Barbeques and riding to school in Bare's car. As we traveled through the ghetto terrain that encompassed 52nd and Lancaster Ave, I would have the windows rolled down. Turning the corner onto 52nd street the volume would come up, as if it could be pumped any further, and I would take a long drag on my cigarette and high-five homeless bums as we drove past them. In the distance, the pregnant crack-addicts of the city proper would raise their hands in the air and "wave them like they just didn't care" as I believe the terminology went.

Those were good times.