Good to the Bone!

My no-good ex-patriot brother has been goin' on about this tune for some time now. I'm beginning to see what the fuss is about. Not only do you have a filthy-delphia motha-funker singing the praises of fried chicken (A vocation worth following if ever there was such a thing), but this fair fowl is so "kickin" that it sets our cake-walk prince here to moan - Truly the benchmark of any religious chicken-eating experience.

Besides a certain Philly pedagree, I know very little about this clucker, save for a name change (Radars) and a later repress on 'Yew' records (Mutton!? Ewww!). Comped a gazillion times I'm sure, rub this fucker in some flour and drop it in the pan! You won't be sorry, but you might be hungry (Nom, nom nom).

Finger Licking Chicken - Radors, or Radars, or whatever

Note: A little stone-soul birdie tells me that the great Mel Brown has gone up to that big coop in the sky. Click here to honor the man and his chicken-chompin' memory.