Although acid house exports provided the sound blueprints for Second
Summer of Love in the late 80s, the rawness of the US originals often
did not really match the ecstasy fuelled day-glo hedonism that was
sweeping UK clubland. Of course the pioneering tracks from Chicago,
Detroit and New York had the same huge impact in English clubs as
they had in Continental Europe, and the American originators brought
music that was informed by no less aspiring ambitions, but it was
also often produced on the equipment that you could afford in
problematic social environments, and its initial target group was
more local, and on another street level than the almost proverbial
MDMA hugs between football hooligans or other thugs and the dancers
they were previously beating up. But UK pop and club culture had
interpreted outside influences into something more pop before and
sent it back, as it had happened with the British Invasion in the 60s
and lovers rock in the 70s, and house, and particularly acid house,
was no exception. In the UK, some clever people not only heard a
difference, they also understood that it had potential far beyond
that. Just a new, small and dedicated scene at first, but maybe more.
Or even much more.
Baby
Ford seemed to have a very clear vision of what was missing for the
music to really cross over and reach such potential, and with his
first promising releases from 1988 up to his first album „Fordtrax“
he brilliantly merged inspirations from Larry Heard, Derrick May or
Todd Terry with a knowledgeable pop sensibility. But in contrast to
other successful London cohorts of the Rhythm King label like Bomb
The Bass, S‘Express, The Beatmasters, and Coldcut on their label
Ahead Of Our Time, he did not succumb almost entirely to the charms
of the wild days of sampling, instead aiming more for his own
musicianship than a wild collage of references with a beat. And in
contrast to Manchester artists like 808 State and A Guy Called
Gerald, who achieved a similarly distinctive sound, he was ready,
willing and able to sing as well, and he implied his sense of humour.
Be it „Ooochy Koochy“ or „Chikki Chikki Aah Aah“, his music
was catchy and smart, but instrumental gems like „Fordtrax“
already proved that he knew how to arrange and set a mood. He seemed
to make fine use of his influences as much as he made them his own,
and he established a mini-canon of his own work in which his ideas
naturally referred to each other.
Already a year later his second album „’Ooo’ The World Of Baby
Ford“ aimed considerably higher. There are variations of „Fordtrax“
material but in a different, more mellow mood („Milky Tres / Chikki
Chikki Aah Aah“). Which is perfectly ok if your source material is
good enough to be reinterpreted in such a short time. Other tracks
like „Let‘s Talk It Over“ or „The World Is In Love“ have a
similar mood, somehow as urban as pastoral, sublime and full of hope.
„Beach Bump“ or „A Place Of Dreams & Magic“ are more over
the top, reviving the camp fun of „Oochy Koochy“ and other
livelier tracks he made before. And then there are tracks that hint
at the idea of this album as a continuation of gone but yet still
lasting UK youth cultures. In terms of music „Poem For Wigan“ and
„Wigan“ have not much in common with the 70s northern soul haven
Wigan Casino (or the Jazz Funk and later Electro played at Wigan Pier
club by its resident DJ Greg Wilson), but Baby Ford grew up near
Wigan and experienced what happened there, and both tracks have a
sentiment true to the inspiration. You may now flock to other clubs
and dance to other sounds, but the spirit is the same. Else the cover
version of T.Rex‘s „Children Of The Revolution“ is more
obvious, putting the 70s glam rock anthem into the context of the
acid house movement, whose children won‘t be fooled either. It is
time again for the UK youth to rise up against it, and this is how it
sounds. And then the according modern grooves also meet the
modernized version of the hippie era aesthetics that the tabloids and
authorities directly diverted to blame and prosecution. Where there
are loved up messages and melodies, psychedelic colours and a quest
for an alternative way of living, there must be something for society
to fight back, regardless of what you are afraid of in the 60s, 70s,
80s, or the decades to come. Us against them, forever irreconcilable.
This
album captured the revolutionary spirit and joy of that time
perfectly, and it indirectly predicted why it could not last. It was
not widely perceived as a defining statement and Baby Ford did not
become the defining pop star, and he seemed to abandon his bright
ideas soon after. First with the subsequent 1992 album „BFORD9“,
which still had some traces of his prior optimism left, but which
also confrontationally displayed disillusionment, darker topics and
harder sounds, until he reduced his persona and sound more and more,
albeit still with consistently great creative results. Either way,
Baby Ford‘s world may have not been big enough, but you still think
‚Ooo‘ when you think of it.
Noch lange nach dem offiziellen Niedergang zog sich das Erbe der Disco-Ära mehr oder weniger latent durch das jeweils aktuelle Clubmusik-Geschehen, aber in den letzten Jahren nahm die Auseinandersetzung mit dem Thema neue Formen an. Damit einhergehend meldete sich eine Form der Musikbearbeitung zurück, die schon abgelegt schien: der Edit. Wo zur klassischen Phase des Edits noch DJs und Produzenten zu Schere und Klebeband griffen, um individuelle Versionen für Club-Sets maßzuschneidern, führten die fortschreitenden technischen Erleichterungen in der Musikproduktion zu einer Flut von Edits bekannter oder obskurer Titel. Es war nun geradezu üblich, sich erst mit ein paar editierten Fremdkompositionen schwankenden Mehrwerts einen Namen zu machen, und sich dann allmählich als eigenständiger Künstler zu etablieren. Je mehr Disco sich in die breite öffentliche Wahrnehmung zurückmeldete, desto weiter drifteten die Lager derer auseinander, die Disco in immer entlegenere, spezialisiertere Winkel erforschen wollten, und derer, die Disco einfach mehr Popularität wünschen. Aber beide Lager machten für ihre Zwecke zahllose Edits. Bis dahin wurde jedoch schon ein ganz schön langer Weg zurückgelegt.
Ab Mitte der 70er Jahre war die Bandmaschine fester Bestandteil der Setups von Studio und DJ-Kanzel. Schon 1974 nahm der New Yorker DJ John Addison damit seine Sets im Club auf, und ungefähr zur gleichen Zeit verbrachte Tom Moulton, frustriert von den damals noch gängigen Fade-outs und Pausen auf der Tanzfläche, etliche Arbeitsstunden damit, Tapes für den Club Sandpiper auf der Schwulen-Enklave Fire Island zusammenzuschneiden, auf denen die Songs ineinander übergingen. Der Arbeitsaufwand, die Methodik und das Arbeitsgerät dabei waren mit dem Cutter beim Film vergleichbar, und man brauchte eine Menge Geduld und ein fein abgestimmtes Ohr dafür, die Parts der Musik harmonisch und punktgenau zu trennen und an anderer Stelle wieder zusammenzufügen. Moulton war somit nicht nur ein Pionier der Mix-Compilation, er führte 1976 auch die 12“ in die Clubkultur ein, als er eine verlängerte Version von Moment Of Truths „So Much For Love“ für das Format anfertigte (seine Glanztaten als Mixer würden diesen Rahmen sprengen). Moulton war jedoch nie DJ, wohingegen der legendäre Walter Gibbons, der sich mit ihm anhand seiner Version von Double Exposures „Ten Percent“ die Verdienste um die erste 12“ teilte, seine Erfahrungen als Ausnahmetalent in der Kanzel in seine Edits einfließen ließ. Die Mixe, die er im Club machte, indem er bestimmte Parts von Songs am Mischpult ausdehnte und wiederholte und ihnen somit eine völlig neue Dramaturgie und Dynamik verlieh, bannte er bald auf Tonbänder und Acetat-Pressungen, um sich die Arbeit im Club zu erleichtern. Und in Zeiten, in denen der DJ pro Nacht viele Stunden am Stück zu arbeiten hatte, war das ein ernstzunehmendes Kriterium. Die Umstrukturierung eines Stückes mittels Editieren war demzufolge schon von Beginn auch durch Funktionalität definiert, gleichermaßen das Erlebnis auf der Tanzfläche betreffend, als auch das Wirken des DJ, der für das Erlebnis sorgt. Schnell wurde aus der tanzbareren Alternative zum Originalversion der Standard, und ein DJ ohne signifikante eigene Edits war kaum noch konkurrenzfähig. Anfang der 80er, nach dem klassischen Disco-Boom, wurde dieses Gewinnerteam nicht ausgewechselt, sondern weiterentwickelt. In New York zogen Studio-Asse wie François Kevorkian oder Shep Pettibone wegweisende Lehren aus den frühen Tagen des Edits, und arbeiteten ihr Ausgangsmaterial von Underground bis Pop zu kaum noch wiedererkennbaren Versionen um. Gleichzeitig sorgte die etwas jüngere Generation, am prominentesten vertreten durch die Latin Rascals und Mr. K alias Danny Krivit, dafür, dass einerseits die Tradition neu erblühte, andererseits den Anschluss an neue Sounds fand, und von England aus kümmerte sich Greg Wilson darum, dass die Kunst des Edits von England aus auch in Europa um sich griff. In Chicago rumorte wenig später bereits das Phänomen House, das maßgeblich von den dort tätigen DJs Frankie Knuckles und Ron Hardy auf den Weg gebracht wurde, wobei auch ihre Edits eine gewichtige Rolle spielten, vor allem die radikalen Dekonstruktionen, mit denen Ron Hardy seine favorisierten Tracks behandelte.
Als House dann ab Ende der 80er seinen Siegeszug antrat, wurde der klassische Edit vom Sampling verdrängt und geriet aus dem Blickpunkt. Nicht nur das mühselige Arbeiten mit Tapes war schon längst Vergangenheit, man konnte mit Sampler und Sequenzer wesentlich schneller vorgehen, und oft war eine gezielte Referenz wichtiger als eine sorgfältig arrangierte Neubearbeitung. Aber schon in den 90ern wurden diese Referenzen wieder nostalgischer, und man erinnerte sich daran zurück, dass eine eingehende Beschäftigung mit prägnanten Einzelparts einem Track zu neuem Glanz verhelfen konnte. Dieser Glanz färbte auf die liebevollen Edits ab, die DJ Harvey und Gerry Rooney auf Black Cock veröffentlichten, und zog sich von den Dub-Exkursionen der Idjut Boys, den Respektbekundungen Ashley Beedles, der Expertise von Joey Negro und Dimitri from Paris bis hin zur Experimentierfreude Theo Parrishs und der verantwortungsbewussten Archäologie von Morgan Geist.
Viele der genannten Protagonisten bestimmen auch die Renaissance des Edits in den letzten Jahren. Auch sie bedienen sich dabei der Neuerungen, die die Herstellung eines Edits wesentlich vereinfacht haben. Tonbänder sind jetzt Files, Schnitt- und Mischpulte sind Produktionssoftware, und das Studio ist im Laptop. Der Weg vom Original bis zum Edit hat sich auch vor dem Hintergrund virtueller Distributionswege derart verkürzt, dass vom Flohmarktfund bis zum Release theoretisch nur wenig Zeit vergehen muss. Damit geht aber leider oft eine Bootlegger-Mentalität einher, die sich nur noch rudimentär um die Qualitäten und Lizenzrechte von Basismaterial schert, und die Auswahl der Musik beschränkt sich nur zu häufig auf Distinktion durch Obskurität und Verfügbarkeit. Tracks werden dann nicht mehr individuell interpretiert, sondern nach den Convenience-Geboten modernen Auflegens zwangsbegradigt. Kickdrum schlägt Schlagzeuger, Arrangement schlägt Neuarrangement. Natürlich gibt es genug Produzenten, die, dem Grundgedanken der Edit-Klassiker gemäß, einen Track so auseinander- und wiederzusammenbauen, dass ein Mehrwert entsteht, aber man muss in der Schwemme von Edits, die daran nicht weiter interessiert sind, immer tiefer tauchen. Über die Verantwortlichen dafür stellte Lars Bulnheim, Gitarrist bei Superpunk und begnadeter Soul-DJ, einst treffend fest: „Da will einer Kalif sein, anstelle des Kalifen“.
Es lohnt es sich in jedem Fall, sich bei den Pionieren zu unterrichten, wie man mit einem Edit eine neue Version schafft, die neben der alten Version mindestens besteht. Anschauungsmaterial dafür gibt es mehr als genug.
25 Edits:
Bettye Lavette – Doin’ The Best That I Can – Walter Gibbons Remix (West End Records, 1978)
Yaz – Situation – François Kevorkian Dub Version (Sire, 1982)
First Choice – Let No Man Put Asunder – Frankie Knuckles Vocal Mix (Salsoul, 1983)
Jimmy Ruffin – Hold On To My Love – Robbie Leslie Disconet Remix (ERC, 1984)
MFSB – Love Is The Message – Mr. K Re-Edit (T.D. Records)
Carl Bean – I Was Born This Way – Shep Pettibone Better Days Version (Next Plateau, 1986)
La Flavour – Mandolay – Latin Rascals Version (Seathru Records, 1987)
Data – Living Inside Me – Razormaid A-2 Vinyl Mix (Razormaid, 1989)
DJ Harvey – Love Finger (Black Cock, 1998)
Patti Jo – Make Me Believe In You – Black Science Orchestra Re-Edit (Original Sound Track Recordings, 1999)
Patti Labelle – Get Ready (Looking For Love) – Ron Hardy Back To The Music Box Edit (Nuphonic, 2000)
Theo Parrish – Ugly Edits Vol. 2 (Ugly Edits, 2002)
Dance Reaction – Disco Train – Morgan Geist Caboose Mix (Environ, 2003)
Johnnie Taylor – What About My Love – Joey Negro Re-Edit (Rapster, 2004)
Isaac Hayes – I Can’t Turn Around (Ron’s Edits, 2004)
Tantra – A Place Called Tarot – Idjut Boys Re-Edit (Tirk, 2004)
In discussion with Greg Wilson on “Ball Of Confusion (That’s What The World Is Today)” by The Temptations (1970).
What is your personal history with this particular song and why did you choose it?
I suppose if I was put on the spot and asked to name my favourite all-time singles, this would be one of those that would immediately spring to mind.
My older brother and sister, like many teenagers growing up in the 60’s, regularly bought singles (7″ only in those days of course). They were both into Soul, with Tamla Motown, Stax and Atlantic releases making up the majority of what they owned. These singles gradually fell into my possession and became the foundation of my record collection.
This was one of those records, and the moment I heard it I was awestruck! From the count-in at the start, which I now know was the producer, Norman Whitfield, and the bass line intro, which I now know was a Funk Brother, Bob Babbit, it’s clear that you’re boarding an aural rollercoaster. And then the vocals come in, and what an opening salvo:
“People moving out, people moving in,
Why? Because of the color of their skin,
Run, run, run, but you sure can’t hide…”
We’ve barely started, yet the picture already painted leaves you in no doubt that we’re dealing in harsh realities here. The track is a snapshot of a point in time – with the 60’s moving into the 70’s it reflects the plight of black Americans, disillusioned by the slowness of change when it comes to their personal freedoms, whilst inhabiting a world that’s been changing at breakneck pace. As they try to make sense of the situation they find themselves in, things only become ever more bewildering, the title of the song perfectly capturing the mood of the moment.
Everything about this record is on a higher plane – the song, the vocals, the musicians, the production, it’s a whole crew of people right at the top of their game.
Having made such a strong impression on me, a white boy, I couldn’t begin to imagine how someone who was black would feel listening to this record. Years later I got my answer when interviewing Les Spaine, one of the DJs who inspired me back when I was starting out. This is what he told me:
“The Temptations were God. You waited religiously for any new Temptations record and I think we grew with them, you know. Afros were growing, political awareness was growing. Norman Whitfield, for me, timed it so well because I was reading Eldridge Cleaver, Huey P. Newton, Angela Davis, all those people. I wasn’t a militant, it was just, you know, people were frightened of certain things in America, but what they didn’t realise is that all of a sudden you got an understanding and, hang on, there’s some brothers and sisters here that can do a bit more than running and singing and boxing, which is not degrading. Not putting down any of those three things – that’s what we’re supposed to be good at. All of a sudden, here’s some academics here and the music evolved from just ‘scooby-dooby-do-wah-wah’ to like some of the stuff the Temps were singing. Whitfield got a bit long-winded with seventeen-and-a-half minute tracks with two minutes of vocals but, as a young man, I was really into all that underground… To the majority of the black race, the Temptations were our Beatles. A new Temptations album came out, you bought it and then you listened to it. You didn’t go and sit in the box, because you used to have listening booths then, you just bought it. I always remember, it was really funny, I remember buying ‘Ball Of Confusion’ and I put it on and I left the arm off the machine so that it would go back to it and go back to it, and my dad, who was really one of the most laid back blokes I know, after about two-and-a-half hours of this, must have got fed up of hearing ‘and the band played on’ and just walked into my room, took it off, snapped it and walked off!”
How did you experience the political, social and cultural climate the song reflects?
I was just a kid, aged 10 when this was released, fresh out of primary school, but, despite my obvious naïveté, tracks like this, along with others including Sam Cooke’s ‘A Change Is Gonna Come’, Marvin Gaye’s recording of ‘Abraham, Martin And John’, Edwin Starr’s ‘War’ (another Norman Whitfield / Barrett Strong composition, originally recorded by The Temptations, Starr’s version also produced by Whitfield) and even stuff like ‘Love Child’ by The Supremes and Clarence Carter’s ‘Patches’, really struck a chord with me at the time and got me thinking about deeper issues. This is a perfect illustration of the power of music to inform, although the main connection was on an emotional rather than an intellectual level – Soul music, even when the lyrics weren’t really saying anything poignant, could still affect me in a profound way.
I remember thinking ‘how can these people be treated so badly when they make such wonderful music’. I was certainly aware of the racist (or racialist as they said back then) attitude that black people were somehow lesser than whites – Enoch Powell’s infamous ‘Rivers Of Blood’ speech had taken place a few years earlier and I’d no doubt picked up on the race / immigration debate via the TV, newspapers and overhearing peoples’ conversations on the subject, it was certainly a hot potato of an issue back then.
Although I didn’t know any black people at the time, unlike many others of my age I fortunately wasn’t burdened with the ignorance and prejudice of the previous generation. I never heard any racist remarks from my family, to the contrary, my father was a big boxing fan and his hero was Mohammed Ali (going back to when he was still Cassius Clay), so my own first impression of a black man was totally positive.
I think it was my sister who explained racism to me, and the whole thing crystallized via these remarkable records, which connected with me on a deeper level than the music by white Pop artists (which I was also very much into) because I realized, at a very young age, that this Soul music was tied into a greater struggle.
This is from an old French movie soundtrack, „Le Casse“. I picked this for the string arrangement, because it puts a lot of emphasis on build-up, thus linking to the way Disco producers arranged strings for climactic dancefloor moments.
To be honest, I muss confess I don’t know Morricone’s works so well. I don’t think I have been a really big fan, partially because I don’t know it so well. My first impression of this track, which I didn’t know, was that it’s a formal composition. In my head I make a distinction between pop music, which has almost very definite rules, and people following it like Abba. It’s not formulaic, but there are very basic chord progressions that are based on Blues and Jazz that you can do in pop music and that have their own logic and their own progression. Many pop songs are actually the same song. “Good Times” by Chic is one kind of groove and twenty other songs sound exactly like it. It could be “Rapture” by Blondie or something. That’s pop music writing. And then you have soundtrack music writing and it has a different logic. It doesn’t have to follow a certain progression like in pop music, which has a reason and an impulse that keeps on pushing the song forward. When I heard this I thought it is a very good example of soundtrack music writing where you don’t really have to explain the logic of the chord progression, it just sets a mood. It makes an ambience. I think this is probably from 1967 to 71.
Good guess, it’s from 1971.
Because from 1972 on you start getting the big multi-track stuff, like Philly Disco and the more sophisticated pop, and this still sounds relatively simple. My first impression was it’s like a slightly cheaper copy of Burt Bacharach’s “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head”, but with more drama. It has some very formal devices, like it’s basically a minor key. But at some points he plays the same theme but he opens it up with a major key.
Lately all this beautifully orchestrated obscure library music back is popping up again and people scan back catalogues for songs groovy enough to suit a Disco context.
Yeah, that’s interesting, and I think there is a good reason for that. There is such a thing as real music, in the sense that there were people who did music for films, like Ennio Morricone, or Giorgio Moroder, with a more naïve use of the rules, or the very sophisticated Henry Mancini, or Alec Constandinos, or Vangelis, or Jean-Michel Jarre. All these people were obviously classically trained and they followed the rules. It doesn’t really matter if it’s a Bossa Nova, 60’s GoGo or a Disco beat, the rules of the music don’t change. I think that is why everybody is going back now to find real music. When people like Masters At Work appeared in the 90’s, people who didn’t know anything about the basic rules of music started making music. That’s why it sounds so awful, haha. A lot of the DJ produced music doesn’t have its own intrinsic logic and sense. And chords, progression and melodies have that intrinsic logic. That’s what’s been missing. So everyone of this generation who wants to find out what is really musical has to go back to the 60’s and 70’s, and there you find it everywhere actually.
> Carter Burwell – Blood Simple
This is from the soundtrack of the Coen Brothers debut film “Blood Simple”.
It’s from the 80’s I suppose.
Yes, it’s from 1987. It’s a mood piece with a synthetic feel to it.
I found the orchestration is simpler, but it’s similar to the previous song. Again, it’s not a pop song with intrinsic deep logic. Like Bach’s “Air On The G-String”, that is also some kind of pop music because it has a very definite logic. This one has a formal piano theme that sounds a bit like Erik Satie. Simple chord, simple melody, a little bit like Mozart’s “Eine kleine Nachtmusik”. It is not original, it is a formal piece, it follows a form that other people have created.
You could maybe alter its logic by just putting a beat under it, and by not adding much you would have a really moody dance track.
Yeah, actually this is the thing. To be honest, and many people are going to hate me for saying this, I’m not a big fan of Portishead. It’s very easy to make a mood piece. Anybody can do it. All you have to do is take a minor key and play some stuff over it, doesn’t really matter what. I think Portishead never even use a major key (laughs).
They don’t have to, really.
Yes. I think anybody writing good music should move between major and minor keys, that’s part of the magic. Since we now accept that some people make mood music, you can have a whole album of just melancholy. Personally, that doesn’t move me at all and I don’t find it very interesting. I think a lot of people in this generation think that this is a valid way to do music, for me it’s not enough. Salsoul records only have two or three keys but they do it so well, there are so many nuances.
I think the problem is that many people think they can only sound deep by using minor keys.
Yes, you’re right. That’s very true. If it’s not melancholy and it’s not moody then it’s not deep. Which is not true. That’s very profound what you just said. Read the rest of this entry »
Greg Wilson war erwiesenermaßen der DJ, sich schon zeitig um die Einführung von Electro in die britische Clublandschaft kümmerte. Diese Platte war ein Exponat auf der Compilation „UK Electro“ und einer seiner ersten Gehversuche im Studio. Das Ergebnis hat zwar noch die Klangästhetik der amerikanischen Originale, bewegt sich aber schon eher in einem Groove, zu dem man wenig später in Chicago House sagte, garniert mit Sci-Fi-Flächen, zerhackten Ansagen, seltsamen Stammesgesängen und einer ausgefuchsten Dramaturgie. Das Stück passte hervorragend in den langen Abschied von Disco auf dem Weg zu neuen Gefilden, wurde dann aber schmählich fallen gelassen als ungekannte Helden aus Übersee ihre Rumpelmaschinen auf vollen Schub schalteten. Man kann nur mutmaßen was Wilson so alles angestellt hätte, wenn er damals am Ball geblieben wäre, aber die Aktivitäten nach seiner späten Rückkehr haben dann ja so manches Versprechen eingelöst.
Some fine folks in the Ruhr area ran a website called Deep Groove, which indeed was a hub for all kinds of deep grooves, and included a lively message board and a good guest mix section. When they asked me for a mix I decided to give them a disco treat. I remember that the mix was pretty popular then, and I am also still really happy with it. It is a good snapshot of the kind of disco I played around Berlin‘s disco circuit at the time, which after years of hibernation was growing stronger and stronger. If I may say so, the intro is really something. Mad skills!
Oh, and if you wonder about the title, I nicked it from a George Michael documentary I saw with my friend Stefan Goldmann that year. I liked some early Wham! stuff but I was never too much into his solo career. The only place showing it was a small gay cinema in Berlin-Schöneberg and Stefan persuaded me to join, because he really liked the song Freeek, which I did not like at all. After the film my opinion on George Michael really changed though, and I still have a lot of respect for him. But my favourite moment in the documentary were two elder female fans who were asked what they liked about him. “He’s the boo in my boogie!”, one replied. I could relate to that.
Sinnamon – I Need You Now (Acapella) René & Angela – I Love You More (Mr. K Edit) Brenda Taylor – You Can’t Have Your Cake And Eat It Too (Greg Wilson Edit) The Staple Singers – Slippery People Dan Hartman – We Are The Young The System – You Are In My System The The – Giant It’s Immaterial – Space (He Called From The Kitchen…) Thelma Houston – You Used To Hold Me So Tight Cameo – Back And Forth (Dub Mix) ABC – The Night You Murdered Love (The Whole Story) Sleeque – One For The Money Surface – Falling In Love (Special Extended Danny Krivit Extended Re-Edit) Evelyn King – I’m In Love Montana Orchestra – Sal Sold My Beats Donny Hathaway – String Segue Arnie’s Love – I’m Out Of Your Love Michael Wycoff – Looking Up To You Tafuri – What Am I Gonna Do About Your Love? (Silk On Steel – Extended Mix) Tony Silvester & The New Ingredient – Verry White The 5th Dimension – Magic In My Life
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