![]() I ate humming it, I walked dancing to it. I brushed my teeth singing it, I awoke thinking of it. ![]() I learned how to play the song backwards, and I listened to it again and again desperately hoping to decipher its myriad codes still further. On each spin alluring secrets poured out of it an endless, mysterious font of funk. I don’t think I’ve ever been in an Uber and not requested the aux chord to play it. ![]() I must’ve heard it hundreds of times in my life before that. To prepare for this piece I listened to the song - the 3:30-long radio edit (above), the 3:01-long a capella version, the 7:22-long C & J Street mix (below) with the haunting tinkled-piano introduction - at least seventy times in the past thirty-six hours. I wanted to find out why Return Of The Mack refused to die. Kelly’s creepy masterpiece Ignition (Remix), there’s rarely been a song so guaranteed to make everyone stop what they’re doing at 4am and start dancing. With the possible exception of Luniz’s I’ve Got 5 On It - depending on who you ask, a misogynist earworm about calling dibs on a woman or a catchy ode to the art of fisting - or R. They are words as abstract paintings now, on a canvas of supremely danceable new jack swing. The batshit pronunciation morphing simple words into something new and weird and strange. ![]() Oooh, yea-eh-ey.įor me, very little comes close to Mark Morrison’s opening gambit on Return of the Mack. ![]()
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