Review: Malcolm McLaren and the World's Famous Supreme Team's Buffalo Gals

Sounds like a hiss pop whine of the tape containing phonic vowel emphasis: EAH, AE, OO, I, OO, EH, EAH, AH, OO, EH, AH, AH, AH. The brass thickens with a tinny soft chorus trading melodic weaving around a set of tones. The DJ’s stuck on buh buh buh, bah, hiss pop whine primal yell build supplanted with hard-soft-fade bass, compression of scratching punctuated by the chorus, just a bit higher than before. Back to the stuttering men, words cut off to patterns of quick rise, leading us into hollow rising drums. These buffalo gals and boys are really building me up as they round the outside of the vynil at high speed. Do-si-do with the low bass texture and decrescendo of low tight frequency pounding at our chorus and twang swing pitch man competing with melodic fat density to a flow of predictable patterned language. Will this caller ever get the square dance to rock a party?