je prendre el francois, cockbite
Warning: this post contains some serious elements of Chicago/B-more house at it's dingiest, which I know drives some people batty. it's tough stuff to listen to, but dammit, I'm doing this for my precious childhood memories.
Cajmere - It's Time for the Percolator
god this is a grimy dance plate. here's the thing - as a Baltimore city kid (B-more, Bawlmer, etc), the thump-thump-thump booty house sound is more familiar than most of the saturday morning cartoons that were around when I was a lad. Baltimorons seemed to have a soft (hard?) spot for house music made in this genre, and since there's relatively few producers in any style that come from Bawlmer, people looked to Chicago for a great deal of the music. it's all the same, but for some reason (most likely the neverending vocal hooks) these songs burn themselves into your memory. the beats are retarded, the vocals all of one line ("there's some hoes in this house, if you see 'em point 'em out"), but I'll be damned if me and every other kid in school wasn't walking around in the 8th and 9th grade going "it's time for the percolator" over and over again, thinking that the more we sang it the more it'd make sense to us. it never did.
this track (stuck in my head till almost 10th grade) comes to us from Chicago house prodigy Cajmere, a.k.a. Green Velvet, a.k.a. Curtis Alan Jones (among many other names). I remember hearing this weekly at this shitty Bawlmer bar called the Bank, named for the fact that it was in an old bank. it was 5$ at the door or 10$ at the back door without ID, and drinks were something like 3$ for these scary blue things that the trannies would buy us. I think I was there all of three times before the place was closed down.
you can usually find this and other icky B-more house gems at the Turntable Lab, or at your favorite dance record store.