the original version is nothing short of a classic, but its as if the song had never been invited to a louie vega post-midnight global extravaganza. was the song not aware that spellbound dancing and high bpms were the standard for house music? normally, such a blaring disregard for nightlife decorum would relegate a song to the pits of sonic hell, but we’re talking about george clinton here! the original opens up with a g-funk groove that screams westside and lowriders. the listener is then blessed with clinton as he adds his sage, soulful and pimpadelic vocals, complemented by funkadelic singers asking him about the pains of the funk. the semblance of a beat that could drive the dancefloor into the morning hours is there, but in no way has it blossomed into its full glory. enter louie vega.