It’s been a long summer without the infectious draw of the triple-S voodoo guiding you towards the dance. When any sane individual should be nestling into furs and sheltering from the climatic downturn, we return with an urgent need for everyone to throw everything to the floor and make out with the music like the sun still beats down on your skull. There’s a distinct sense that the unnamed vigilante behind this deviant dispatch of disco-fied diatribes likes nothing better than to burrow deep into the ground, unearthing every honey-coated bass lick and simmering drum hook you craved but were afraid to ask for. Trapped in the perpetual Friday night fever, with the rest of the weekend of your life stretching out ahead of you, on these here record grooves there is only the music, the moonlight, and you. Don’t let the tone of the message fool you; there’s still space for those more tender moments in this here party. Who doesn’t love a slow jam when the mood is intimate and the company is right? For that sweet spot of the revelry when you feel the dawn’s afterglow, we have just the right tonic. Leave it to the Shimmy Sham Sham and its occult-enhanced band of beatsmiths to guide you towards the most righteous kind of party, and you too shall be spiritually sanctified. In the heat of the night, let those sweaty numbers melt down any worries. No top hat and gator shoes required… just shake that ass!