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Soul Survivors

Divine music, with the devil in mind



his generation needs a soul cleansing. These days it’s too easy to get caught up in distractions—phone apps, social media—and forget about the true party favors. Deep down we are begging for a savior, perhaps a righteous cocktail of relentless rhythmic entitlement. You know—the type of beat that grabs booties of all sizes and gives them a nice shaking. We are talking about soul, and, lucky for us locals, the Chicken Slacks have turned Thursday nights at the Cantab into a sweat-drenched ode to a time we can all dig, a time when the Godfather of Soul was alive and sane, a time when people willfully danced around divine beats all while carrying the devil’s intentions in their hips. The Slacks make you believe that somewhere the Reverend Al Green himself approaches a gospel choir and asks, “Can I get a witness?” Why not witness it for yourself? Amen. Wallace