The suffocating humidity has the sweat dripping down your back, but you hardly notice. As bop blows wildly in the air, you see her. Slinking down the hall with a devilish grin, she entices you with her tantalizing charm. With a single glance, she devours your soul.
A vision of making it with her splits your skull. There she is, wildly pumping away on top of you with little regard for you beneath her. When she’s had her fill, she rolls over and lights a cigarette, exhaling coolly before shimmying back into her dress. She’s gone before you even have time to catch your breath. You lie there, a quivering mass of ectoplasm, with the memory of her dark lips pressed against yours burned into your brain forever.
They certainly don’t make songs like this anymore. Ones that transport you to the suffocating humidity of New Orleans in its gritty Jazz heyday, and it’s rare to find a songstress who can sing with this kind of raw talent, which is why I’m impressed as hell by Lanie Lane.
Hailing from Sydney, she channels the sultriest of jazz crooners of the past with a voice like Erykah Badu, to make even housework sound deliriously sexy.
Check out “What Do I Do,” it will seriously make your day.
Lanie Lane - What Do I Do by Aesthetes Anonymous
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