Space Drugs

Sex Machine

Damn Thats Hot

Whammy

Did You Give It Back?

Lighter Go?

The Same You?

Girls

Walk On Water

Melt With You

Mushroom Funk Seance

I’m SpaceGoat. SpaceGoating is what happens when broken speakers dream in analog.

These mixes aren’t made, they escape.
 Spilled from my mom’s basement at, rerouted through jersey juke wormholes, soaked in dubstep static, wrapped in soul, and scribbled over with ghetto tech glyphs.

Some say they’re echoes of Kool Keith’s lost cassette, one recorded on a malfunctioning four-track inside a time loop portal behind a Detroit liquor store.

 Others swear it’s what happens when too much Miami bass overloads a dial-up modem connected to an abandoned message board coded in dream logic.

But I know the truth:

Each mix is built from fragments carried by the ghosts of the circuit. DJ Magic Mike’s sub-bass still rattles the drywall. 

DJ Assault’s glitch-funk fingerprints smear the tempo. 

Esham and Mastamind whisper in reversed layers. 

Cyzer Sozet hums beneath the static, Iron Fist-era rage encoded in the hiss.

There’s a WDPR CD in the disc changer, 90s bass CDs warped in the sun, Bad Boy Bill throwing sparks in the crossfader, and Bone Thugs chanting in unison from the attic vents. 

Dayton Family samples crawl through old tape reels while Master P’s gold tank rumbles beneath the floorboards.

The Wolfpack never left.

MC Breed shows there still ain’t no future in yo fronting.

These aren’t just DJ mixes. They’re assembled transmissions from the basement multiverse, tuned by instinct, haunted by influence.

I don’t explain it.

I just press go and let the noise leak.

Mushroom Funk Seance

Let's Go SpaceGoat.ing

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