Deee-Lite, "Good Beat"

January 1991. Sky is purple, it's snowing, room is lit from within the closet, where my desk is, by a flexible desk lamp, which makes the room seem purple too. My sisters, three and four, are in the living room. I'm looking at a Life magazine book of classic photographs--the proto-psychedelic delayed-flash Halloween kids-in-costume one, the Man Ray one Damon & Naomi will use on the cover of More Sad Hits. Holographic foil postcards on inside of closet walls. Bunch of cassettes, this being the newest. Spent my Christmas money on it and other things; play it first. Number six on Spin's year-end albums list, love the single, Miss Kier no. 1 lust object. I'm 15. Prince conditioning means psychedelic dance music is what I want out of life. Beat and bassline = the most powerful, cavernous-sounding thing I've heard on a record to that point. Vocal sounds playful and narcotic at the same time, mesmerized by the same aural goings-on I am and articulating it as simply as can be done. "I just wanna hear a good beat. I just wanna. I just wanna." Me too. God, me too.