Description
Not the music of today. Tired vamps in two chords, droning on and on in comatose fashion, nor after market versions, watered down to the point of squeamishness, but the real McCoy, pure as the driven snow, accurate as the atomic clock, hip as anything in the last hundred years. I am confident that, with the right talent combined, we could even now have that music, just as it was...in 1936.
The Ultra 30’s
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