Like a starving man I will swoop in and devour any new 'Poppa' Howard track I stumble upon.
The vocals are clearly the main course here. The meat on those bones, if you well. They are the burning of the fire in this plant that powers everything else. They are a giant flywheel that starts off slow at first but whose momentum propels it forward. The gravitational field that makes everything else fall into.
You get the idea - its a bitching track to be enjoyed on a warm summer night. With a cocktail. And someone.