Wah Wah. Do those words stutter down your backbone and shuffle your size nines? Wah Wah. Spitty guitar strumming and chicken-plucked bass playing, syrup-growling voices laying it on thick and throbbing. Wah Wah. Yeah, o yeah. Now, you are living in the streets. It's the late sixties, early seventies, crack has a hold on the brown stones and things haven't improved for Martin Luther King and Malcom X's bulletholes. And come the summer, it gets hot and sweaty sitting there on the steps of your tenement. But the funk that's coming fruit-juice and rye out of your transistor is a musical icebox door open on you, and it's cool. The sounds contained on Living in the Streets 1, 2 and 3 reference strutting jazz, freaked out funk and gabbering soul - these are the cuts you'd have turned the volume on the radio up for back-when. You want authentic vibes, well, here, you got them. These tracks are sugar in your coffee, they're the Huggy Bear of your inner self hot-footing down through Harlem, they are African drums sounding over the savannah of the projects. Wah Wah. Wah Wah. Dig it? You will.