Where in the hell can the raggy ectoplasms of Hank Williams, George Wallace and Ugly Al Dixon and the warm blooded bodies of the local, slacker, underachieving barefoot walkers go to intersect with the upscale blueblood babies with a soulfunk itch? That'd be a lounge named Leroy. Listen in every Saturday to the denizen hubbub and the soulfunkgospel of dj casequarter.
April 2, 2016
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