Less of a track, more of a leak.
This one doesn’t play — it seeps.
Voices don’t sing — they lubricate the silence.
Made for satin shorts, blurred glances, and dirty grooves on polished floors.
Caution: may cause delayed pleasure and rhythmic eye contact.

LUBE CHANNEL

FULL VHS MODE isn’t an album.
It’s a taped-over memory, found under a motel bed between a wet sock and a broken promise.

Each track is a scene, not a song.
Funk that fuses with carpet.
Synths that sigh.
Vocals that don’t sing — they sweat in stereo.

From Sweat Like a Man to Fader Deep,
from Do Not Disturb to Lube Channel,
you don’t skip.
You slide.

No features.
No filters.
Just 42 minutes of electro-erotic slow burn,
looped at 120 BPM, designed for bodies that forgot how to behave.

FULL VHS MODE:
Stick it in.
Let it hiss.
Repeat until guilt disappears.

TOO HOT .. CAN'T STOP

You rubbed it too hard.
The carpet is scorched, the bass is guilty, and the air smells like melted nostalgia.
There’s no melody, only friction.
No climax, only sweat.
This track doesn’t end — it simmers.

BURN THE RUG

This isn’t a track — it’s a short circuit in heat.
Slippery synths, unfiltered desire, and a bassline that grinds like it knows your secrets.
Every beat is a neon moan. Every silence wants to be touched.
You don’t press play.
You plug it.
It plugs you back.
Twice.

PLUG ME TWICE

The song that plays after the lock clicks and the clothes forget their job.
Moaning vocoders, sticky claps, and a synth line you shouldn’t trust in public.
It’s not composed — it arrived, dripping, and demanded privacy.
If the light is red, the beat is on.

DO NOT DISTURB

This isn’t an intro.
It’s the sound of a zipper going down in slow motion.
A humid breath over a synth that hasn’t been touched in years.
It doesn’t welcome you — it warns you.
No beat, just pressure. No melody, just intent.
You’re not inside the album yet,
but your shirt is already unbuttoned.

INTRO

This is not skincare.
It’s a full-body groove massage for damaged hearts and slippery nights.
A track that glistens, hydrates, and leaves stains on satin sheets.
The bass rubs. The synth melts.
And the vocals?
Moisturized, weaponized, hypnotized.
Apply generously. Do not rinse.

COCONUT OIL

The red button nobody dares press — except you.
It licks back.
Glitchy, greasy, and vocally indecent, it’s the moment when funk becomes a personal decision.
You didn’t choose it. It chose you.
And now, you’re already sweating.

LICK THE SWITCH

Fader Deep is a humid trench carved in bass.
It’s the sound of a bad idea that overstays its welcome in a room with no windows and too many intentions.
Half vocoder, half orgasm — the kind of track that makes your skin hum and your morals leave quietly.
You don’t dance to it. You slide into it.



FADER DEEP

“I Sweat You” isn’t just a track — it’s a heatwave in slow motion.
A bassline that sticks to your chest, a groove that slides into your veins, and vocals that don’t ask for permission.

This is retro-funk for lovers who don’t cool down.
Synths moan. Claps drip. And the chorus?
It loops like a regret that feels too good to stop.

Don’t skip it.
Sweat it.



I SWEAT YOU

Hi. We’re Starsky & Clit.

We were born in a malfunctioning jacuzzi during a blackout.
We make tracks for elevators that flirt and hotel rooms that never checked out.

Synths? Yes.
Basslines? Unsupervised.
Genres? Somewhere between electro-funk, French shame, and a softcore documentary about regrets.

Sometimes it’s 120 BPM.
Sometimes it’s slower.
Always too late to turn back.

We don’t play live.
We sweat in private.
We don’t go viral.
We leave stains.

If it grooves, sticks, or makes your aunt raise an eyebrow —
that’s probably us.

Starsky & Clit.
Available in cassette, steam, and poor decisions.

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