Oh yeah, you're the king of smooth. How many hot pieces of ass have you bagged with that flugelhorn, smooth guitar, funky beats, and those pimpish ways?
"Por más de cinco décadas, el amor de Chuck Mangione con la música ha sido una relación apasionada caracterizada por la energía sin fin, el entusiasmo y el puro disfrute que irradia este músico al ejecutar sus temas."
This is what they wrote about you. Praise in multiple languages, pussy from even more. You mostly stuck to what you know, sleazy chicks from Hunt's Point in the Bronx, or maybe out in Canarsie... you liked being able to shag a bitch wherever the fuck you laid down your horn. You did a lot of drugs too, Chuck. Hell, I heard people would dump quaaludes and scotch whiskey down the top of your horn while you played. You just sucked them down. You were the king of smooth.
You had the best album covers, Chuck.
What the hell were you on, Chuck? Heh, you laugh it off though. It was New York in the 70s, right? Everyone was coked up and strung out.
Okay, so the 80s hit real quick. Coming clean was the new "drug." You certainly milked the fuck out of this image, didn't you, Chuck? Why the hell did you get so wholesome? I liked the sleaze-king of the late 70s, the pill-popping, reefer-smoking, liquor-pounding, pussy-shredding pimp of legend you were.
You went too far with this one, Chuck. Fans and critics alike, they all knew this was a farce. You just took your party underground, out of the spotlight. Your image was so clean you could just smell the bleach and ammonia, it backfired. Where did you go after the 80s, Chuck?
What the hell was this, Chuck?
wow, Chuck... how much coke, seriously? Did you freebase with Richard Pryor?
I will always remember you in your glory days, Chuck. Your music of that time reflects this vibe of "endless party, endless liquor, endless hookers, endless cocaine." Neither hip-hop nor rock n' roll has anything on you, Chuck.
I've heard the rumors, the "urban legends", about you, Chuck. But you are the ultimate urban legend. They say you've gone beyond incognito. You live in a quiet efficiency down in Soho blowing royalty checks in dive bars, looking for love in all the wrong places. You don't seem to age, but the world just isn't cut out for someone as smooth as you these days. Of course, this doesn't keep you from getting head-over-heels shit-faced and once in a while wiping the dust off that old flugelhorn in some dank below-ground club.
You're hoping there's a drug dealer in the audience, you really want to just mellow out on some pills and booze tonight. Sealed in a glass case in your apartment, you have one quaalude, perhaps the last remaining pharmaceutical quaalude in the world. You know this little pill was the substance that inspired, captivated, and nourished the smooth. You're time has passed, Chuck... but newer generations in third world countries will find your music. You will have a second coming, Chuck. It will never be as sweet as it was in the late '70s, but... could anything be?
See you soon, Chuck. Keep on blowing that horn.