In my village, we used to call goat music machine. You get the pump of the bag pipe and the cry of the nannies. So many goats I get my hair eaten. So then I tell husband and baby that I come to America. Time to grow up, stop suckling at mama’s breast. Mama need breast to make it big in America. I end up here in town called tell-saw. I find out if you plug goat in you can no eat goat meat. So I plug in record machine instead and then I got turn-tables and I am big bitch in little club. Yo.
Vinyl is life. Music is everything.
- Unknown – Cold Ass
- Gridland Stage | Sacred Dimensions
- 7:00pm | Outside