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Later (Unmixed)

Various Artists

Seamless Recordings
MEERCD010 | 2009-10-05  
All the animals come out at night... Sick, venal... Travis Bickle, Taxi Driver, Not at our place they don't. Crazy P

Picture the scene (again). You're in an unfamiliar city, wired and sleepless thanks to a combination of overwork and Bourbon. You've spent the evening tumbleweeding from bar to club to bar in search of a friendly vibe, a friendly face, and you've come up wanting. Now it's kicking out time and those same bars and clubs have coughed you back out onto harsh, neon-scarred streets, and you've no option but to tumbleweed back to your hotel for a long night of unsleep.

But wait! What's this? Music, coming drifting to you from out of the night. The warm thump of double bass, the inviting suggestion of horns and jazzy pianos, and unmistakably, at the arse-end of it all, drums. Sweet, funky drums. Instinctively, you start to try to follow the music to its source, your ears locking onto the sound like a shark moving into a bloodtrail. Soon, it's not you who is attempting to track the music to whencesoever it springs forth, it's the music that has you locked on and is drawing you in. You're led to a basement flat, awash with pale light and smoke plumes, an open door. There's laughter inside, the chink of glass against glass. Music, laughter, stuff that comes in glasses - yeah, this will do you just fine. And so you walk in through that open door, because hey, that door would be closed if you weren't invited, and it turns out that all those friendly vibes and faces that you were looking for? They were here all along.

Welcome to the latest, third installment of Seamless Recordings' Later series, compiled and mixed by Crazy P on the off-chance that, one day, you may well, if you're ever in Nottingham, stumble into their after-hours party, and may well be in need of some soul-soothing, sanity-restoring sounds. Make no mistake, this selection of classics, unreleased gems and deep-in-the-crates oddities will salve your spiritual woes no matter when you throw it on, but at the end of a hard night, that itself comes at the end of a hard week at the end of a hard month at the end of a yadda yadda yadda, it will take you, lay you down on a chaise longue, prop your head up with a velvet cushion, place a gin and tonic in your hand and give you a back rub.

Crazy P have spent ten years establishing themselves as one of the UK's finest purveyors of 21st century disco, and one of THE big draws on the festival circuit. They have done this by a) being seriously funky motherfriggers and b) knowing precisely how to take a listener by the ears, slowly bring them up and keep them up. Their Later mastermix, as unique and intimate as a handwritten letter to a friend, does this with assassin expertise, drawing you in with gentle, strange and enticingly skew-whiff jazz, and when it has got your attention, sucker-punching your backside into shaking with hit after hit of delicious, irresistible space-disco, music that you have to dance to, even if you're only doing so inside your own head while you keep enjoying that back rub.

It's fitting that the pivotal track of Crazy P's entry into the Later spirit of things should be their own honeyed, gorgeous Never Gonna Reach Me because... Well, you try making the decision about getting up to dance to it, or simply kicking further back and letting its mellifluous melodies wash over you. Get up? Stay down? Get down? As the track gives way to George Double's loopy chicken-hop classic Breast Meat, and Later begins to bring the funk and the heaviness, it's clear that the latter option is the most sensible, but Team Crazy P always give you the option. That's what friends are for, innit?

Come in, come in, come in, you look like you could do with chilling out among a sympathetic, funky and extremely good-looking crowd. And boy, are you ever going to do that.

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