Greetings, people of Earth. It is I, DJ Berly D.
Friends, go rummage in the closet and dust off those boogie shoes. It’s time to party. I want to say “this one’s a fun one,” but honestly? They’re all fun ones when the needle hits right.
Tell me—have you ever heard of Yta Jourias? No? How about Togo Soul 70? Or Bosq? Well, believe it or not, these all tie together in this slightly epic, slightly sweaty tale of: How DJ Berly D was knighted by the Queen herself as ‘Sir Crate‑Digger of SoCal.’
Thoroughly confused yet? Perfect. That means your ears are open.
Let’s get tuned in.
WDDJBDO (What Did DJ Berly D Do?)
You know, like most billionaires, I spend most of my nights bathing in gold — or, more accurately, bathing in the golden glow of a cracked computer screen and obscure disco edits.
One of those nights, I was deep diving into the rich rhythms of Gilberto Gil — the Brazilian legend whose music feels like sunlight and rain rolled into sound. I was jamming out to “Palco,” hit shuffle, and suddenly… Adome Nyueto popped up.
It wasn’t just a random track; it was a wild card, a ghost from Lomé that landed squarely in my headphones, pulling me into a story I hadn’t even known I was chasing.
The title read: “Adome Nyueto (Bosq Edit).” An eight‑minute track of, well… an absolute banger. I was movin’ and groovin’ in my seat before I even realized what hit me.
It kicks off with epic horn lines, some sultry sighs sprinkled in, and a beat that just won’t quit. About two minutes in, you realize the horns weren’t the main event — they were the invitation, winding us up for the vocal melody to drop. The percussion is smacking, the drums are pumping, and the voices tap in and out just enough to leave you wanting more.
The album cover reads Togo Soul 70. The artist? Yta Jourias. But to my surprise, when I clicked the artist’s name… nothing. No bio, no discography, no “listeners also like.” Just digital silence.
So what did this mean? Simple: it was time to deep dive.
I need you to know the can of worms I opened for myself the moment that track landed in my lap. So here’s what we needed to find out…
Who is Yta Jourias? What is Togo Soul 70? And what the hell is a Bosq Edit?
Crate‑Digger's
Yta Jourias. A Togolese singer who lit up Lomé’s dance floors in the ’70s — her voice riding the line between command and longing, stitched together from funk, highlife, and raw West African soul.
No glossy box set, no tidy Wikipedia page. Just a handful of scattered tracks, half‑remembered stories from smoky clubs, and a groove stubborn enough to outlive the static.
Somewhere between dusty crates and humid back rooms in Lomé — the capital of Togo, a slim West African country wedged between Ghana and Benin on the Atlantic coast — a handful of reel‑to‑reel tapes survived. Ghosts of a decade when the city pulsed with its own brand of funk, soul, and sweat‑slicked disco.
Togo Soul 70 isn’t “to‑go” like take‑out. It’s Togo: the place, the soul, the sound. A compilation that’s part resurrection, part time capsule: two Parisian crate‑diggers — Julien Lebrun, a DJ and founder of Hot Casa Records, and Djamel Hammadi, a fellow producer and groove archaeologist — flew south chasing echoes.
They combed through radio station basements, flipped through warped reels, and tracked down aging bandleaders whose memories were the only surviving liner notes. All to save songs that risked slipping into silence forever.
What they unearthed is a map of Lomé’s nightlife in the 1970s: raw highlife horns, gospel‑soaked harmonies, basslines rough enough to light a cigarette on. Music that once roared out of smoky dance halls and roadside bars, born at the crossroads of tradition and post‑colonial possibility.
And in the middle of it all: “Adome Nyueto” by Yta Jourias — a groove so stubbornly alive that decades later, DJs like Bosq would loop it into something that still sways modern dance floors.
That’s what hooks me: the way music refuses to stay buried. How a few warped tapes, a stubborn love of rhythm, and a trip to Lomé can drag lost nights back into the light. Togo Soul 70 proves history doesn’t just gather dust on a shelf; sometimes it spins at 33 rpm, cracks and all, daring you not to dance..
BOSQ, BEATS & BELLS, OH MY!
History can’t stay locked in crates forever. Boston‑bred producer and DJ, Bosq, has a crate‑digger’s ear and a dancer’s pulse. Where others might’ve filed Adome Nyueto away as a curious relic, Bosq caught something stubborn in Yta Jourias’s groove: something worth pulling back into the light. When the world needed disco extended mixes most - enter Bosq.
So he looped it, teased it, let the bassline breathe, and built a remix that doesn’t just pay homage — it resuscitates. Suddenly, a track recorded decades ago in Lomé is rattling modern dance floors from Brooklyn to Berlin. It’s not a museum piece anymore. It’s alive, sweating, swaying hips and spilling drinks.
All of that to say… here’s how the rabbit hole actually unraveled: first came the Bosq Edit — eight glorious minutes of looping horns, sweaty drums, and that stubborn groove that refused to quit. Then, after typing “Yta Jourias” into the void, the original track surfaced.
Same raw vibe, just shorter. The OG mix feels a little rougher around the edges; the percussion hits different, the drums crack in a way that sounds closer to the smoky dance halls it was born in. But both versions pulse with the same stubborn heartbeat that hooked me in the first place.
Even with all this info, I should’ve known there’d still be something I’d miss. So I did what any self‑respecting billionaire does between golden bubble baths: I phoned a friend.
ET PHONE ANGEL
Enter Angel Lin — fellow music obsessive, LA‑renowned percussion wizard who creates their own instruments out of various recycled items and collected treasures, and one of my closest friends. I laid it all out for them: the late‑night rabbit hole, the dusty crates of Lomé, the stubborn heartbeat of Adome Nyueto.
That’s when Angel dropped a gem of their own: the Togo Bell — a small but mighty percussion instrument that clangs through the track like a heartbeat inside hammered bronze. I was lucky enough to get a pic. We live in the 21st century, our phones have cameras! “I found mine at a cool music store in Fullerton,” they said.
Naturally, we tried to track the place down… only to discover that Mo’s Fullerton Music had closed its doors after 70 years in business. We both sat there in sadness, and let out the only words that fit: “That hurts…”
After letting the sting pass, I told Angel what made all this feel so special: the lost magic of the disco extended mix.
Picture it: you’re in a discotheque in the ’70s. The floor’s sticky, the mirror ball’s spinning, and your favorites are playing: “Ain’t No Stopping Us Now” by McFadden and Whitehead, “You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)” by Sylvester, “Bad Girls” by Donna Summer. You know that feeling — when the groove’s so good you never want it to end.
That’s where the extended mix came in: ten glorious minutes of your favorite basslines and horn stabs, looping and layering to keep you movin’ and groovin’ until it’s way too late for anything good to be going down.
And that’s exactly what Bosq did with Adome Nyueto: stretched it out, let the bass breathe, kept the soul intact — honoring the original tune while giving it new legs to dance on.
You know what they say: everything comes back around eventually.
Can we expect more disco in the future — or some wild new shape of it? Will extended mixes survive in a world obsessed with 15‑second viral clips? And what about music shops, big and small — like Sam Ash and Mo’s Fullerton Music — will they stay afloat, or fade into memory?
I’m a firm believer that change is a good thing. But you can’t deny the value the past holds. It’s right there in Bosq’s edit: he could’ve made something entirely new — but instead, he looped the past back to life.
In the words of my favorite psychologist, Dr. Michael Yapko: “You are not defined by your unchangeable history.” And we aren’t.
But music? Maybe it is. Because it’s the hands, hearts, and grooves of the past that keep pushing the sound forward.
So, where are we going next?
Cheers to the future, friends. Time can only tell what we’ll hear next.
Stay tuned.
If you dug this post, feel free to tip the scribbler: Venmo https://venmo.com/u/berlyd
— Berly
Listen to the Bosq Edit here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CHIc_snlzY
Listen to the OG here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W7fz2Cn-HPo
Find Angel Lin: https://angellin.bandcamp.com/
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