Memphisto Waltz* at Pressure World

(Again, the little name says Hua, but this is actually Dave's post. Get used to it!)

I’m all for a six minute “Orange Mound” chant and a scoop of sweet potatoes. Orange Mound, Memphis is home to Pressure World** car wash. Sometimes they put garbage bags over the fences and throw rainbow cupperware parties. A friend once saw 8-Ball & MJG hanging out there, (the same guy saw Ice Cube cram a giant hydraulic skull inside a small Muslim temple in Miami). Apparently, 8 Ball and MJG sampled Pretty Tony’s “Fix It In The Mix” but I can’t figure out where. Pretty Tony used to DJ car washes in Miami. Make me a copy of that 8 Ball thing and I’ll fry up the Latin Rascal re-edit of the “Fix It In The Mix” instrumental. The electric puddle reverb makes your woofers pucker when gliding through the Laser Wash 4000 at the Exxon on Randolph Rd in Charlotte, NC. All sync’d up to squid hoses, pom pom swisha, McDonaldland fry guys with droopy perms and how about that chromatic drop dispersal across the windshield! Not to mention the chorus line of nodding blow driers that look like those ducky things from Fantastic Planet. Perfect for your Electric Kingdom donkey kong drums. “This reminds me of the Too Short foam party at the Gold Club,” said my friend as we drove through in his Infiniti FX 35 Half Track after someone Funyion’d his hood.

But is the Laser 4000 ready for Three Six? Did this really happen in ‘92 while the rest of rap was on the G-Funk, the jazz, the iggedy while Divine Styler was on acid and Class A Felony was on some other ishwhat while making a classic with 45 King and saying “you’re a savage patch doll!”

Will Crunk sound this good ten years from now? (No)

Did a company named Endo really come out with a new Opioid called DepoDur? (Yes)

“Ni**as Ain’t Barin’ It” gets along swimmingly with Mike Jones’ Still Tippin’ (12 years from then--moonshine sabotage in Roxboro, NC.) and I still wish upon a bowl of Gorilla Munch that the latter became 2004’s Diwali--that everyone and their eft would blast over those violins. Or that someone would add a lowing cello and call it “Cow Tippin.” (According to sources in Houston, folks go nuts when Whodini’s “I’m A Ho” starts busting up the Tippin’ violins).

Back to Memphis. DJ Paul’s beat has the munchies for your autoplant ratchet—like Ced Gee in Tennessee. And the album (Underground Vol. 1) only gets weirder, between the emulsified Sleethstack beats and them sampling Fantasy Three(!).

Do not operate heavy forklifts while under the lid of this thing. It’s that disorienting feeling when you’re a kid drooling through a car nap in a Bojangles parking lot, raindrops hissing on the hood. Your head lolls into the power window lever. The glass halfazoid slides down to reveal a maroon Cutlass, one space over, backing out. Retract slurrrrp and slap dash in a panic, thinking you’re going through the dirty rice smears on the windshield. Forward lurch, quease back. Is there a word for that? There’s got to be.

*speaking of 666 alliteration, the Alan Alda Satanist flick Memphisto Waltz has the names Wendkos, Windom & Widdoes in its credits.

**There should be a Pressure World in Frog Level, Va.

Posted by Hua at March 8, 2005 04:29 PM