Forgive Forget You by Sugar Babies: A Chaotic Blast of Early 2000s Dance Floor Energy
Let’s cut the crap—Sugar Babies’ Forgive Forget You isn’t your run-of-the-mill pop-electronic album. Released in 2000 under Tommy Boy Silver Label, this sucker slaps hard with its blend of House, Euro House, Nu-Disco, and Progressive House vibes. It’s got that late-night club energy mixed with just enough radio polish to make you think, “Wait…is this genius or trash?” Spoiler alert: it’s both.
The album is basically a remix orgy, with nine versions of the same track, “Forgive + Forget You.” Yeah, NINE. At first glance, you’d think they were milking it dry, but honestly? They pull it off. Two tracks stand out like neon lights on a dingy dance floor: “Forgive + Forget You (Razor N Guido Club Mix)” and “Forgive + Forget You (Original Classic Club Mix).” These cuts hit different because they don’t just rely on flashy production—they’ve got soul, grit, and hooks sharp enough to slice through your brain.
The Razor N Guido Club Mix? Damn near perfection. This thing grabs you by the collar and shoves you straight into the groove. The bassline throbs like a heartbeat, while Muriel Fowler’s vocals float over the beat like she’s whispering secrets in your ear. Add Toni Seawright’s backing vocals for extra spice, and boom—you’ve got a track that makes you wanna lose your mind on the dance floor. The breakdown around the halfway mark? Pure fire. Feels like someone took all your bad decisions, wrapped ‘em up in glitter, and turned them into music.
Then there’s the Original Classic Club Mix—a more stripped-back beast compared to Razor N Guido’s chaos. This one lets the melody breathe, giving Fowler’s voice room to shine without drowning her in effects. It’s smoother, sexier, and somehow still packs a punch when the drums kick back in. If I had to pick one version to play at 3 AM after too many drinks, this would be it.
Now, let’s talk credits real quick. Producer D. Martin and W. Brown clearly knew what they were doing, crafting beats so infectious they could wake the dead. And props to C. Peterson for writing lyrics that stick in your head like gum under a table. Victor Lee as executive producer? Solid call—he kept things tight without killing the vibe. But shoutout to Toni Seawright for those backing vocals; she adds texture where it counts.
So yeah, Forgive Forget You might feel like an overdose of one idea stretched thin across nine tracks, but damn if it doesn’t work. Maybe it’s the nostalgia talking, or maybe it’s just how relentlessly fun these mixes are. Either way, this album reminds me why house music ruled back then—it wasn’t afraid to get messy, repetitive, and weird.
Here’s the kicker though: listening to this now feels like finding an old mixtape in your car’s glove compartment. You know, the kind you forgot about until years later, only to realize it’s better than half the stuff playing today. Makes me wonder—what happened to Sugar Babies? Did they burn out? Get lost in the shuffle? Or did they just decide screw it, we made our banger and ghosted?
Point is, Forgive Forget You ain’t perfect, but it’s unforgettable. And sometimes, that’s all you need.
