The Studio 77 Tapes doesn’t feel like a normal album. It feels like something you weren’t meant to hear, like lifting the needle on a forgotten record and realizing it’s still alive. These recordings carry the weight of real moments, captured late at night when rules didn’t matter and the music came first. The restoration work by Rowen Shore keeps the soul of the warehouse intact. You can hear the room, the bleed between instruments, the sweat in the grooves. Nothing is polished too clean, and that’s exactly why it works.
“Get On That Groove!” kicks things off with confidence. It’s pure funk energy, tight but loose at the same time. The bass sits deep in the pocket, the rhythm guitar snaps, and the vocals feel like they’re pushing the band forward rather than sitting on top of it. There’s a sense of joy here, but also urgency, like the musicians know this moment won’t last forever. “Boom! Shake My Groove” leans further into that raw disco-funk crossover. The groove is repetitive in the best way, hypnotic without getting dull. You can imagine bodies moving in a dim warehouse, lights low, rules forgotten. When the “Club Version” appears later, it’s not just a longer cut. The feel changes. The rhythm gets darker, more locked-in, and the vocal delivery shifts to something more rhythmic and focused, hinting at where house music was about to land. “Blackroom Groove” is moodier and more restrained. The groove is slower and heavier, built around atmosphere rather than hooks. This track really shows the late-night side of these sessions. It feels like the room has thinned out, the musicians are locked in with each other, and the outside world no longer exists.
“Bad Intentions on the One” brings attitude back into the picture. The emphasis on the downbeat gives it a gritty, almost confrontational feel. The band sounds sharp and alert here, playing with intent and bite. It’s funk with teeth, driven by frustration as much as rhythm. “Bring the Horns and Break the Law” lives up to its name. The horns cut through with power and personality, adding a sense of rebellion to the groove. This track feels like a statement, loud and unapologetic, made by musicians who know they’re crossing lines and enjoying every second of it. “Burn My Name” is the emotional center of the album. The rock edge pushes harder here, and the vocal feels charged with anger and release. Knowing the story behind it makes the track hit deeper. This isn’t just a song, it’s a reaction to being boxed in and silenced. The band sounds like they’re burning off years of pressure in one take. By the time the album ends, The Studio 77 Tapes feels less like a collection of tracks and more like a single night stretched across time. You hear disco turn into something darker and more repetitive, funk slowly giving way to early house instincts. It’s imperfect, human, and alive. This is music made for the love of playing, saved by accident, and finally allowed to breathe.
English