Rick James - Street Songs

I'm currently awaiting the arrival of a pair of boots from Vegetarian Shoes in Brighton. I've tracked them to Melbourne, then Perth, and they are now 'On For Delivery' - a mangling of the Queen's (N.M.K!) English which I'm interpreting as them coming today. I could be wrong - I've been fooled before.

Playing this album has made me realise that I've gone in completely the wrong direction with my choice of footwear, though, and I am now envious of Rick James' thigh high red boots. They're very me.

The cover photo story seems to flow from back to front. On the back, James and a couple of women, of the kind James would have called 'freaks', but we nowadays call 'women', are apparently being patted down by a police officer. I say patted down, but the cop has his hand firmly on Rick's gluteal area. Rick is looking down at his hand as it to say, "You cheeky monkey, I know what you're up to - I'm Rick James, motherfucker, etc."

The front of the sleeve shows Rick leaning on a lamppost like a leather-clad George Formby, Rickenbacker bass at the ready. In the distance, the cop is leading the two women away in handcuffs. Honestly, fuck knows what's happening here. It's even more confusing if you read it from front cover to back.

This album contains some of James' best work Give It To Me Baby, Fire And Desire (with an epic performance by Teena Marie), and, ahem, Super Freak.

The lyric sheet contains the above warning.

P.S. Boots arrived!

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