| And I have their album on cassette, and I got it for a dollar. How can it be that the cassettes of a fabulous disco band whose lyrics include such transparently timeless choruses as “I’m crucified/crucified, like my savior” and “Voodoo man, come and take my hand/Voodoo man, to the promised land/tonight, tonight, tonight” can be found, two or three at a time, in the cluttered nether-regions of the Goodwill in Ames, Iowa? It isn’t fair. It isn’t right. |
