Ghetto Godfathers Love Junkie (Original Mix) - Heavy ...
Conga Squad Discofried (Original) - Discofried
Slip N Slide Records
R.E.D. Somethin' Elze (Original Mix) - Ret...
Audio Jacker So Disco (Original Mix) - Disco Rev...
Dubs McKenzie Aftro
How2 Groove? Ya Feet (Original Mix) - Got The Fu...
Joey Chicago Magic (Original Mix) - Discolife Vo...
Scrappy Cocco Hummis sum disco
DJ Zimmo Wanna Party (Original Mix) - Disco ...
Leon Clarke Hey Freak (Original Mix) - Leon Cla...
Tech Fu recordings
Keywords, shouts and tags.
Hippieflipper is dead. He went out on his own terms. Stinking of sex and patchouli. An I.V. of Jack Daniels in each his internal and eternal jugular, the needles protruding from his neck as if from a Bukowski Frankenstein. He died like a true patriot, Cannonballing into a hotel pool from the 20th floor balcony of Luke Perry's rehab suite with two sheets of acid in his left breast pocket, where he was promptly eaten by sharks. As he tied on his trash bag cape, adjusted his merkin and stepped onto the railing, a pinata under each arm, he had these words, "This is my last mix, use it to shield against the politics of this world, the cruel realities of physical anatomy, the dull suicide of the lowest common denominator. Dance betwixt the raindrops of viral hate. Moonwalk across it's calloused forehead. For when the four on the four syncs up to the pumping of your ancestral, warrior's heart and your synapses snap like sizzling hi-hats you must bare your sharpened teeth, raise your ringed fists and fire off your go-go booted Kalashnikov into the dance floor, for we are not mere mortals, we are endorphin freedom fighters!" My life was never the same. Thrice fold can be said about the sharks.