Wuh-huh-huh-hoa. You thought we’d gone and forgotten all about digging in to the symbolic musical dirt to find the hidden diamonds for your listening enjoyment. Thought we’d just faded this little part of weekly updates in to the proverbial sunset. Well, we haven’t. ‘Cause here comes The Distribution Tango roaring back again!

We’ll be honest, we weren’t planning on doing a Distro Tango today. We were tired, and hungry and dirty from sleeping underneath bush with only an empty bottle of Nighttrain to cushion our head. But then we were all sitting around this morning jawin’ about what to write about when all of sudden this week’s Distribution Tango soared on to the speakers.

There was argument at first (hell, there still is argument), but we quashed those tinny pleas. This week we’re taking it deep, and we’re taking oh oh oh so dirty. Let us introduce you to:

MOTEL LOVERS: Southern Soul From The Chitlin’ Circuit

What Is It: Music, friends, music like no other. Music that represents the psyche of the Black American South – somewhere between Jesus and Staggerlee, Baptist church services and sex, the juke joint and the motel. Music that boldly oversteps the line of decency, and thrusts the sweaty, sometimes sexy South in your face with nary a pretension in site. This is the raw, lusting loins of the deep, deep, dirty, dirty South. From Trikont.

Why You’re Going To Like It: Sigh. We don’t even know where to begin. Pop this bad boy in the old jiggity-juke box, turn the lights down low, maybe spark a few candles, definitely get the bubble bath brewing. Throw some silk sheets on the king-size and just wait for your special lady/gentleman to come on home. Be prepared though, when your significant lover pops through that doorway, and hears this dulcet tones, it’s going to get raw … quickly. Motel Lovers can be a dangerous tool, so don’t say we didn’t warn you.

What We’re Giving You: Sultry songstress Barbara Carr has a problem – she thinks her man is a “Down Low Brother.” Yup, little Ms. Carr has got to thinking that her man might be batting for the other team. So what does she do? She doesn’t turn up her nose, get divorce, her spend sleepless nights crying her grief away – nope she pens one of the most (unintentionally?) hilarious songs about opening the closet door on your boyfriend that you’ve ever heard. We’re not kidding this is sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer funk-cheese-gold.


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