Le Stim

A Tribute to Muhammad Ali “We Crown The King"

Yesterday the one-year-old woke up at the crack of 6:15, ready to start shit while the rest of the fam was peacefully slumbering.

My wife spoke half awake “your turn” and for the purposes of keeping the peace, I grabbed Navy and just got the hell out of upstairs. Let them sleep.

Once downstairs, I just didn’t really feel like popping on Daniel Tiger for her while I lazily get updated on the day’s news on my phone. So gauche.

So I plopped her into the stroller and took off. No route, no plan, no TALKING. Just whichever direction strikes my fancy, one intersection at a time.

Walked past Swank’s old house. Past my old house. Past the house of the guy that set Gram Parson’s body on fire at Joshua Tree.

I noticed things that had escaped the view from my car window…a birdhouse thirty feet up on a tree, historical markers, garbage spilled out in back alleys.

We must’ve walked for ninety-minutes and I cherished every moment of it. Felt like a solid start to the day.

Come this morning, Navy is squealing again at 6:20 and it doesn’t take me two seconds to grab her, get downstairs, in the stroller and back out for our romp.

By the kid’s schools, past the destroyed houses, along the golf course, up and down significant hills. Not brave enough to try and explore the BMX course hidden in the woods with a kid in tow, but definitely ready to check it out on my lonesome.

All that being said…it just felt like a happy, beautiful, wonderfully invigorating way to start the day. Took a shower, gave the whole fam a kiss and made my way into the office 9am adjacent for the first time in three months.

As I perused the pile of records in front of me, the only one that seems to exude the same level of happiness that is radiating out of my soul is Le Stim’s disco workout.

While I’d prefer to be in possession of the original version with a west side Detroit zip code on it, the fact that there was a reissue at my East Nashville local record shop is a-ok by me. I don’t spend $300 on disco records. Yet.

I’m sharing the 6 minute edit here, but if you’ve got the stomach, the 9 minute take is arguably better.

If you mess with Daft Punk, I cannot see how you wouldn’t be able to get down with this. Pure. Distilled. Energy.

If this doesn’t perk up your day, just go back to bed and try again fresh tomorrow.