Why won’t they stop? Don’t they know we have yet to recover from the first hit? Don’t they know that if they continue to put these tracks down someone’s likely to dance themselves to death? Do they have the kind of insurance necessary to cover the broken backs and twisted ankles that will in all probability result from exposing the public at large to this kind of twisted, gnarled, unrelentingly bad-mannered Funk? This latest Charles Bradley and the Bullets 45’ is even nastier than the last one. Monstrous drums, percolating bass, and wiry guitar roll out the red carpet for Prince Charles‘ panty-peeling moans and groans. It’s going to take a team of lawyers and doctors to get them out of this one.