Imagine, if you will, a yacht. It’s forged of gold and strong African teak, bobbing gently at anchor somewhere between the French Riviera and Detroit. A statue of the late Roger Troutman is affixed to the stern like a guardian angel. The ladies of Klymaxx wander the decks serving strawberries and cream on silver platters. Sylvester himself is the skipper, and Hall & Oates are down below, keeping the engines in shipshape. This is the S.S. Chromeo, and the two men who create the smoothest of music under the same moniker are at rest aboard, preparing for another global voyage of lovers’ funk ambassadorship.
Here we have Dave 1, the suave professor, the voice and intellect, enjoying a rosé as he ponders French literature. And with him we have the one and only P-Thugg, the brawn and the body, sipping on the ghetto cocktail known as Thug Passion and proudly going through his mental rolodex of jeep beats and funky flourishes.