Record Karma

A little while ago I was digging through a few boxes of 45s at a local flea market. I was pulling quality stuff out of every box. While on my second or third box I noticed two notoriously shameless characters hovering over me: the grandpa and grandson, as I call them. I've seen the two of them before at some local record fairs, the grandfather makes the kid dig through tons and tons of records while "teaching" him about labels and artists although he's not really teaching him anything because the kid is obviously disinterested in a stack of dusty old pieces of plastics. I'm all for teaching the young ones about quality music but forcing them to slave in boxes of records for you is a different story but I digress, proper parenting (or grandparenting) is not in my interests today. Although they've never done anything to me personally, other than hog up rows and rows of 45s without letting anyone else get in, I still found them annoying. This all changed the day I I was digging at the flea market when the kid reached into the box I was digging in and pulled out a stack to flip through and in the process pulled out a couple Bobby Byrd 45s on Brownstone, ones I've been looking for. Him being a kid and probably not understanding record etiquette I didn't say anything. I was pretty annoyed and frustrated but I just moved onto the next box and pulled this out in the first stack I picked up:



I think that's a pretty safe example of record karma. Practice fair digging techniques and the vinyl gods will be kind to you.

Anyway, this song has been covered by tons of blogs already (Funky16Corners being the biggest advocate of the record) so I don't really have much to say about the song that hasn't been said already. Regardless it's still the most rippin'-out-of-fucking-control funk tunes there is.