Diggin' Ain't EZ, chapter 2

[Part two of our ongoing series. I'm on vacation now, so I'll just be highlighting anything interesting i pick up while I'm gone, but when I get back, we'll head into my collection as assembled so far, and as it grows.]

Chapter Two: I'm Just Like You: Sly's Stone Flower, 1969-70 (Light in the Attic Records, 2014) —

A compilation of tracks from several protégé acts on Sly Stone's short-lived Stone Flower label (some are by Sly himself), which was running from 1969-70. Several of these tracks I have heard before, on the 2006 mega-compilation by Rhino called What It Is!: Funky Soul and Rare Grooves (4 x CD, a great bargain, especially when you find it at the public library and can rip the discs).

This is a lovely double LP set and includes a booklet with liner notes & photos, as well as a great inner gatefold photograph of a "funk box," the Maestro Rhythm King, an early drum machine popularized by Sly Stone (1971's "Family Affair" was the first #1 pop single to use a drum machine), and featured in both 6ix's "I'm Just Like You" and Little Sister's "Stanga".

Inner Gatefold image of the LP, featuring the Maestro Rhythm King

As I dig around some more with the liner notes and give the album a listen, I'll provide more information. Really eager to hear this though. Merry fucking Xmas!

Update: After giving it a listen, I'm really impressed. I love the murky, gurgling, seething sound of There's a Riot Goin' On (1971), and this is more of the same. The drum machine writhes & insinuates, the singing alludes, the accompaniment keeps its counsel. You are thrust into the deeply conflicted mind of Sly, and it's an awkward place to be. Though there's a bit of repetition on this, with all the alternate tracks, the experience of listening is very much not to be missed.

Track Listing:

A) Little Sister - You're the One (pt. 1 & 2) **
Sly - Just Like a Baby
Joe Hicks - Home Sweet Home (pt 2)
6ix - I'm Just Like You
Little Sister - Somebody's Watching You (full band) (same song that appears on 1969's Stand!)

B) Joe Hicks - Life & Death in G & A (pt 1 & 2) **
6ix - Trying to Make You Feel Good
Little Sister - Stanga
6ix - Dynamite (cover of a song originially on Sly's Life (1968))
Little Sister - You're the One (early version)

C) Joe Hicks - I'm Goin' Home (pt 1)
Sly - Africa ** [seething instrumental]
Little Sister - Somebody's Watching You (see above)
6ix - You Can, We Can

D) 6ix - I'm Just Like You (full band) ** [hot, better than original]
Sly - Spirit
6ix - Dynamite (alternate)
Sly - Scared

** Highlight tracks, essential listening

Diggin' Ain't EZ, chapter 1

[This will be a semi-regular feature on the "Music on the One" webpage: a look at some of the cool funk I find here and there. The title is a bit disingenuous, since the massive wave of funk reissue labels have made digging way too easy. Perfect for someone like me, who collects only so I can play & appreciate & share the things I love — so it doesn't matter to me if it's rare or original or anything like that...]

Chapter One: U.S. Music with Funkadelic (Westbound Records, 2009)

Originally recorded in 1972 on Detroit's Westbound Records, then-home of Funkadelic and The Ohio Players, this LP went unreleased after its recording. Only a single 45 was pressed ("I Miss My Baby" b/w "Baby I Owe You Something Good," Westbound, 1972), but the full album was abandoned, as its driving members left the band to join the P-Funk Thang.

U.S. stands for United Soul, and the band consisted of several younger musicians from Plainfield, NJ associated with George Clinton's conk shop and barbershop group, including Garry Shider (1953-2010) and Cordell "Boogie" Mosson (1952-2013), who were drawn into the P-Funk orbit in the early 70s. Both Shider and Mosson were recruited to join Funkadelic when the original members (basically everybody but Bernie Worrell) abandoned Clinton over financial disputes. Other members included Mosson's brother Larry, Peggie Turner, Ben Edwards, "Slim" Edwards, and Harvey McGhee. (Shider appears on several early Parliament and Funkadelic recordings, including the Osmium sessions (ca. 1970) and Maggot Brain (1971).)

Garry Shider, who always wore it best

Cordell "Boogie" Mosson, bassist extraordinaire for Funkadelic's classic period

I paid way too much for this, but it's a real keeper. Haven't heard it yet, but it looks like a drippingly great record. I'll have a lot of fun sharing this one with my "Music on the One" family.

Track listing:

A) This Broken Heart - 4:33 (a cover of an original by the Sonics [1959], later redone on Cosmic Slop [1973])

Baby I Owe You Something Good - 3:50 (later redone on Let's Take It To The Stage [1975])

Be What You Is - 3:45

B) I Miss My Baby - 5:02

Rat Kiss the Cat on the Naval - 7:32 **

** Best track by far, a classic unknown

"Be What You Is" is also available on the Gettin' It Off compilation (Westbound UK, 1996), and smacks of a perfectly crunchy early Funkadelic with typical Clinton-eque clever lyrics. The version on this LP is mastered slightly differently — still great, just not the same.

Every track but the first on side B is dank and foul, some familiar, all very early Funkadelic. "Rat Kiss the Cat on the Naval" will scare the shit out of you, but you won't be able to turn away. Think "Wars of Armageddon" in the schoolhouse, though a bit slower tempo.

The King at rest

The Man with the Crown, here resting on the set of the Blues Brothers (1980). Hoping y'all's holidays are just as restful and funky.

Funk get ready to roll (sez Cholly)

Where the magic happens...

Here she is, the center of my new world, the DJ table I put together from two Ikea sets (a white Kallax 2x4 shelf* (yay—nice big cubby-holes, boo—hollow particle board walls) and a black/brown Lack TV stand with the legs removed. I figured it would be easier to move in the future if the two parts were not connected, and so far they haven't slipped around too much. I'll try to sink some dowels in there if they do (something that can be pulled apart). My Technics SL-1200s go on top with my Vestax PMC05 Pro II mixer in between. The rack above the mixer is for my laptop to rest on. The lower shelf holds my Kenmore amp (purchased at a garage sale -- used as shit & tough as nails). I have baby speakers for now (my neighbors are probably happier about that)—maybe I'll try to find some tall, retro-style, wood cabinet ones later. On the left of the cabinet is a transportation case for my equipment, should I ever play out again. (Don't really love to do so, to be honest—but the case was free, so I took it anyways).

Right now my records are mostly on the lower shelf of the bookcase to the right, but there are lots of convenient holes for sorting and keeping other stuff. My 45s and my cartridge replacement is there now, but I often put records I want to use for my next show in there, or sort out the ones I want to hear soon.

While I'm home, those record players are running 24/7 — previewing tracks and working out transitions for when the station is better arranged for LP playing (there's only one turntable there now, and not terribly convenient for use while on the mike). I am blown away by how satisfying some of these records are. There is some amazing stuff in my collection so far — some real beauties, special cuts, and platters where every song could be played on my show.**

That's what I love about the radio show: my responsibility can be more educational and broadly experiential. DJ'ing live means everything has got to pop and move, and you can never let down. On the show, I can dig and experiment more without disappointing the crowd.*** I think you get a richer experience.

* Meant to get the black/brown model to match the top, but the box was mis-sorted. I sort of like the two-tone effect, kind of looks like a saddle shoe — something Bert would wear.

** Maybe after I get back from my vacation I might do a bit of exploring what's in the collection, maybe show off & discuss one each installment, take some photos of the jackets, give a track listing, and talk about the best features. That might be fun... We'll call it: "Diggin' Ain't EZ"!

*** People are not usually very tolerant of live DJs playing songs they don't recognize or know or that fits their preconceived notions of what a certain kind of music sounds like. But who knows — possibly you are out there listening to my radio show and are just as disappointed?

Elements of Funk

Contrary to most narratives of black music, disco and funk pretty much grew up together. And proto-disco records can be found right alongside proto-funk in the 1960s.

So it might be important to ask: What is the difference between these two styles?

There are lots of commonalities, derived from their mutual heritage from earlier R&B/soul and jazz music. A nice, aggressive horn section, for instance, can be found in either style.

The role of the bass guitar is more prominent in either style — however, that prominence is perhaps more noticeable in disco. Not to say that there are not great funk bassists, because there are plenty. (Take, for instance, Bootsy Collins, often thought of as the funk bassist par excellence — but listen carefully to his James Brown contributions (here's "I Got to Move") or perhaps the Houseguests (Bootsy's band between Brown and Clinton) -- these bass parts are much different that the post-1978 Bootsy's Rubber Band material. They were on a major label when those labels were pushing their artists to conform to disco. P-Funk held out a long time, but they too succumbed).

The drumming I’d say is the biggest difference between the styles. Disco drumlines are fairly straightforward, usually 4/4 time, and are notable for the hi-hat cymbal on every beat, for a fast shuffle rhythm. The best funk tends to be more involved in the drum department, with complex syncopation and jagged rhythms. Listen to the drumming of Clyde Stubblefield (“The Funky Drummer”), Jabo Starks ("Think (About It)" by Lyn Collins), or Zigaboo Modeliste (on The Meters’ “Cissy Strut”), among others. No hi-hat to be found. These do get simplified as the Funk era moves on, as disco lines prove to be very popular (Parliament, for instance, coming back in 1974 as the dance-oriented part of the binary, always had very simple drum parts).

This rhythmic difference makes sense if you think about where either style was most popular. Disco was a DJ-based sound for the dance clubs, with elements easy to cross-fade and beat-match and manipulate using what mixers they had at the time. Funk was based more on the live band, perfecting musical partnership and talent for improvisation, but cohering over a common book of favored songs to play at venues. This is why there are lots of platters of more obscure bands covering big-name tracks. Isaac Hayes, who grew famous arranging pop standards with funky instrumentation) makes a lot of sense in this context as well. James Brown even was constantly revisiting his own catalogue throughout his career (I have an "updated" version of "Please Please Please" on two consecutive 1970s releases).

We might break it down over-simplistically like this: Disco is for the bass as funk is for the drum. Now, don’t get it twisted. I am not saying that disco songs can’t have good drumming, nor that a powerful bass riff was not a part of funk music. Because the two styles congeal from similar inheritances, there is much crossing influence. Neither drum or bass was a major part of white musical styles before the 1970s, and so exploring their possibilities will be inherently transgressive.

Also we should not forget the complex history of drumming rhythms as an aspect of black identity, celebrated, inhabited, but very often banned and discouraged by white society, especially during slaveholding times (and if you need evidence look up pamphlets distributed by racist organizations trying to "protect" white culture from rock n' roll — they pretty much lay it out on the table for you there...) So, in my opinion, for Funk music to revel in the drum and in rhythm is a defiant identification with Blackness, flying in the face of white hegemony's centuries-old struggle to stamp it out and make it acculturate.

But the beat of the One "Jes' Grew" — and if you let it take hold it will set you free. Let the Music Take Your Mind. Free Your Mind and Your Ass Will Follow. I Know You Got Soul.

As for the other instruments, an important distinction might be found in Funk’s percussive accompaniment. James Brown got his musicians to play as if every instrument was percussion, with sharp, jabbing notes. The horns got some riffs and fills, but the guitar almost never broke from this percussive arrangement. (On the contrary, disco tracks often use a shuffling, scratching guitar line.)

Also, there is a marked tendency in disco to provide texture through string arrangement. This starts in some Motown songs, and is used to great effect by Isaac Hayes — but it quickly became the saccharine overload of disco tracks. Compare the difference between a very good funk band's first record and their later offerings. Ripple's first album dropped in 1973, and featured "I Don't Know But It Sure Is Funky" is prime funk, all lean, jagged riffs and smart street soul. Their second album didn't come out until 1978, on Salsoul Records (a notable disco label), and featured "The Beat Goes On and On" as syrupy stringed & chicken scratchy a song as a discotheque could ever want.

Other funk acts exulted in guitar heroics found most often in rock songs. You might think of Funkadelic’s crunchy riffs (“Red Hot Momma” or “Super Stupid”or "Alice In My Fantasies"—not really equalled until Black Sabbath or some Led Zeppelin tracks)* or The Jimmy Castor Bunch’s soloing (“It’s Just Begun” or “Troglodyte”). And James Brown got hisself a share of this as well — think of “Get Up, Get Into It, Get Involved” or better yet, the tracks of his almost-entirely unknown instrumental LP Sho Is Funky Down Here (1971 -- listen to it: it'll melt your face off).

Another important distinction might be articulated as the difference between the extended-play track of disco (perfect for dance clubs) versus the churning, developing long compositions of funk. A funk song, very often mostly instrumental to begin with, will have a main riff followed by one of more solos for different parts. On the other hand, the disco long-playing record just repeats the same pattern forever, even though there might be a break or a bridge (but even that will get repeated if the track is long enough). For an example, think of Isaac Hayes’ “Do Your Thing” (at least nineteen minutes long) versus the full version of “Disco Inferno” by The Trammps (also around twenty minutes, sometimes). The former develops & moves into extended solos, milks the groove, extrapolates on it, explores its possibilities — the latter just repeats, sometimes reintroducing the chorus for variety, but it gets pretty numbing after a while (Quaaludes & cocaine were potent drugs). (The LP version of “(Not Just) Knee Deep” by Funkadelic is about 50/50 between the two styles, with its long vocal vamp in the middle, but otherwise mostly repetition.

The most famous and influential part of a funk song has got to be the break, a brief interlude interrupting the basic order of the song. Often this will be where the other instruments cut out, and leave the drummer to improvise a new pattern in the gap. These were long a part of jazz styles and can be heard in many types of songs. Funk just made them better, and their strength was recognized by nascent hip hop DJs, who used these parts to construct the music for their block parties. These parts were repeated so often that these breaks became more famous or recognizable than the entire song (think of the "Amen Brother" break). Hip hop turntable techniques are derived from the need to juggle this tiny sliver of rhythm for the length of a whole track, using doubled copies of the same record, dropping needles, back-spinning, and scratching.

Funk breaks don’t just have to be taken from this technical part of the song: they can be the opening riff or any other part, just as long as they’re short and able to be isolated. And great breaks are found in all sorts of tracks, whatever a DJ could make someone move to.**

Those are just a few differences between the two styles. I’m not trying to hate on disco at all, but I have little patience for a lot of classic disco. It served its purpose & represented its urban, diversified cultures, but it’s way overplayed and not very interesting, so I’m not planning on playing much of it on my show. But many funk acts, particularly as the years went on, brought more and more disco styling into their music. Its simplicity and escapism were plenty marketable, and as the brutality of the seventies dragged on, folks seemed to be all in for escapism.

"Your fish are dead." "Yeah, I can't get them out..."

* Lots of white boys and rock enthusiasts need to learn some shit about guitar history. The tracks are there — you're welcome...

** I have heard the relatively brief length of the sample in classic hip hop was due to the data capacity of the first samplers, about two seconds tops.

Departed but not Forgotten

Not to get all maudlin, but it's been thirty-five years or more since Funk was popular, and many of its innovators have since passed. Music on the One recognizes the contributions of these great musicians, and wishes to thank them for the love & inspiration. I see the arc of Funk rather broadly, so some of these performers might not fit into your paradigm of the funky.

The list is ongoing, & if I've missed anybody, please let me know. Some bands just don't have that much detailed information about them where I could find it.

It blows my mind that the entire lineup of the original Ohio Players has died. That's sad — and Junie too (though he joined later). Pretty much all the Funk Brothers too... Losing James and Prince was a blow, of course, but the parts of them that touched my life cannot go away, and I will pass them to my children & my readers.

Why did I do this? Not to be all mournful, but to celebrate the true depth & power of the Funk movement — a musical enterprise that transcends star power and the heroic individual. Past bourgeois exceptionality and into the collective, past present & future. Genius is always a part of it but all geniuses require partnership for expression. How could there be a James Brown without Bobby Byrd, Maceo Parker, Fred Wesley, Clyde Stubblefield, etc. Even the Godfather of Soul needed the JBs...

Lots of humans struggled to make this music come to life, but you can dig forever in the vaults for dusty 45s—the lone output of a single struggling band, their members unlisted, possibly forgotten. Individuals working towards the realization of a cultural force, a wave of innovation. A person will die, it's inevitable — but a movement, even a distant movement, never goes away so long as people remember it. And Funk lives in ways more productive & satisfying than any resurgence or imitation.

The break lives, it burns in the collective memory, and it continues to give life. Whether it is merely celebrated, like I do, or made into strikingly new forms, like a hip hop DJ or producer would, we live the Funk, now and ever. The Black Gold of the Sun.

Hank Ballard

May these Funk warriors rest in peace:

Mark Leslie Adams (Slave) (d. 2011)
Richard "Pistol" Allen (The Funk Brothers) (1932-2002)
Louis Armstrong (1901-1971)
Bob Babbit (The Funk Brothers) (1937-2012)
Baby Huey (James Ramey) (1944-1970)
Hank Ballard (1927-2003)
Ron Banks (The Dramatics) (1951-2010)
Allan Barnes (The Blackbyrds) (1949-2016)
Roy Bedeau (aka Spartacus R) (Osibisa) (1948-2010)

Eddie Bo

Benny Benjamin (The Funk Brothers) (1925-1969)
Eddie Bo (1930-2009)
Leroy "Sugarfoot" Bonner (Ohio Players) (1943-2013)
Charles Bradley (1948-2017)
Michael Brecker (1949-2007)
Chuck Brown (1936-2012)
Eddie "Bongo" Brown (The Funk Brothers) (1932-1984)

James Brown & Bobby Byrd

James Brown (1933-2006)
Al Bryant (The Temptations) (1939-1975)
Bobby Byrd (1934-2007)
Donald Byrd (1932-2013)
Ronnie Caldwell  (The Bar-Kays) (1948-1967)*
Jimmy Castor (1940-2012)
Ben Cauley  (The Bar-Kays) (1947-2015)

Catfish Collins

Arlester "Dyke" Christian (Dyke & The Blazers) (1943-1971)
Jessica Cleaves (Earth Wind & Fire) (d. 2014)
Lyn Collins, The Female Preacher (1948-2005)
Phelps "Catfish" Collins (James Brown, Bootsy's Rubber Band) (1943-2010)
Carl Cunningham (The Bar-Kays) (1948-1967)*
King Curtis (1934-1971)
Miles Davis (1926-1991)
"Sting Ray" Davis (P-Funk) (1940-2005)

Lee Dorsey

Bo Diddley (1928-2008)
Bill Doggett (1916-1996)
Lee Dorsey (1926-1986)
George Duke (1946-2013)
Donald "Duck" Dunn (Booker T & The MGs) (1941-2012)
Dennis Edwards (The Temptations) (1943-2018)
Sulaiman El-Hadi (The Last Poets) (d. 1995)
Wade Flemons (Earth Wind & Fire) (d. 1993)
King Floyd (1945-2006)
Melvin Franklin (The Temptations) (1942-1995)

Glenn Goins, ca. 1976

Lowell Fulson (1921-1999)
Ramon "Tiki" Fulwood (P-Funk) (1944-1979)
Marvin Gaye (1939-1984)
Glen Goins (P-Funk) (1954-1978)
Johnny Griffiths (The Funk Brothers) (1936-2002)
Donny Hathaway (1945-1979)
Isaac Hayes (1942-2008)
Leon Haywood (1942-2016)
Eddie Hazel (P-Funk) (1950-1992)
Jimi Hendrix (1942-1970)

Joseph Henry

Joseph Henry (d. 2005)
Mark "Drac" Hicks (Slave) (d. 2011)
Arzell "Z.Z." Hill (1935-1984)
Tyrone Hite (Black Merda) (d. 2004)
William "Wee Gee" Howard (The Dramatics) (1950-2000)
Joe Hunter (The Funk Brothers) (1927-2007)
Marvin Isley (1953-2010)
O'Kelly Isley (1937-1986)
Al Jackson (Booker T & The MGs) (1935-1975)
Michael Jackson (1958-2009)

James Jamerson

James Jamerson (The Funk Brothers) (1936-1983)
Rick James (1948-2004)
Johnny Jenkins (1939-2006)
Cornelius Johnson (Ohio Players) (1937-2009)
Joel "Razor Sharp" Johnson (Bootsy's Rubber Band, P-Funk, The Houseguests) (d. 2018)
Marshall "Rock" Jones (Ohio Players) (1941-2016)
Phalon Jones (The Bar-Kays) (1948-1967)*
Porgy Jones (d. 2014)
Sharon Jones (1956-2016)
Uriel Jones (The Funk Brothers) (1934-2009)
Louis Jordan (1908-1975)
Eddie Kendricks (The Temptations) (1939-1992)

Spike Mickens

Jimmy King (The Bar-Kays) (1949-1967)*
Rahsaan Roland Kirk (1935-1977)
Fela Anikulapo Kuti (1938-1997)
Galt MacDermot (1929-2018)
Herbie Mann (1930-2003)
Curtis Mayfield (1942-1999)
Jimmy McGriff (1936-2008)
Robbie McIntosh (Average White Band) (1950-1974)
Harold Melvin (1939-1997)
Robert "Spike" Mickens (Kool & The Gang) (d. 2010)

Junie Morrison

Ralph "Pee-Wee" Middlebrooks (Ohio Players) (1939-1997)
Buddy Miles (1947-2008)
Rudy Ray Moore (aka The Dolemite) (1927-2008)
Walter "Junie" Morrison (Ohio Players, P-Funk) (1954-2017)
Cordell "Boogie" Mosson (P-Funk) (1952-2013)
Alphonse Mouzon (1948-2016)
Idris Muhammad (1939-2014)
Prince Rogers Nelson (1958-2016)
Jalal Mansur Nuriddin (The Last Poets, Lightnin' Rod) (1944-2018)
Jaco Pastorius (1951-1987)
Esther Phillips (1935-1984)
Wilson Pickett (1941-2006)
St. Clair Pickney (1930-1999)

Sam & Dave (Dave is on the left)

William Powell (The O'Jays) (1942-1977)
Dave Prater (Sam & Dave) (1937-1988)
Billy Preston (1946-2006)
William Daron Pulliam (aka Darondo) (d. 2013)
Eugene Record (The Chi-Lites) (1940-2005)
Otis Redding (1941-1967)*
Robert "Syke Dyke" Reed (Trouble Funk) (d. 2008)
Clarence Reid (aka Blowfly) (1939-2016)
Minnie Riperton (1947-1979)
Cynthia Robinson (Sly & The Family Stone) (1944-2015)
David Ruffin (The Temptations) (1941-1991)
Otis Rush (1935-2018)
Clarence "Satch" Satchell (The Ohio Players) (1940-1995)
Freddie Scott (1933-2007)
Shirley Scott (1934-2002)

Gil Scott-Heron

Gil Scott-Heron (1949-2011)
Frankie Seay (d. 2012)
James Timothy Shaw (aka The Mighty Hannibal) (1939-2014)
Garry Shider (P-Funk) (1953-2010)
Hillel Slovak (Red Hot Chili Peppers) (1962-1988)
Claydes Smith (Kool & The Gang) (1948-2006)
Jimmy Smith (1925-2005)
Fudgie Kay Solomon (Mandrill) (d. 1974)
Melvin Sparks (1946-2011)
Roebuck "Pops" Staples (1914-2000)
Edwin Starr (1942-2003)

The Funky Drummer

Clyde Stubblefield (The Funky Drummer) (1943-2017)
Donna Summer (1948-2012)
Sun Ra (1914-1993)
Rod Temperton (Heatwave, Michael Jackson, Quincy Jones) (1949-2016)
Rufus Thomas (1917-2001)
Israel "Poppa Stoppa" Tolbert (1939-2007)
Mac Tontoh (Osibisa) (1940-2010)
Allen Toussaint (1938-2015)
Roger Troutman (1951-1999)
Wilson Turbinton (aka Willie Tee) (The Gaturs) (1944-2007)
Earl Van Dyke (The Funk Brothers) (1930-1992)
Michael Viner (Incredible Bongo Band) (1944-2009)
Junior Walker (1931-1995)

Marva Whitney

Robert Ward (Ohio Players) (1938-2008)
Johnny "Guitar" Watson (1935-1996)
Ricky West (Kool & The Gang) (d. 1985)
Barry White (1944-2003)
Maurice White (Earth Wind & Fire) (1941-2016)**
Robert White (The Funk Brothers) (1936-1994)
Marva Whitney (1944-2012)
Milan Williams (The Commodores) (1948-2006)
Paul Williams (The Temptations) (1939-1973)
Eddie "Chank" Willis (The Funk Brothers) (1936-2018)
"Sweet" Lou Wilson (Mandrill) (1941-2013)
Robert Wilson (The GAP Band) (1957-2010)
Bobby Womack (1944-2014)
Bernie Worrell (1944-2016)
Joe Zwainul (Miles Davis, Weather Report) (1932-2007)


* Killed in the same plane crash near Madison, Wisconsin.

** Just need a Robin White and we'd have the Black Bee Gees...

Where it all began

Stevie Wonder got me hooked on the Funk back in the 1970's. The man himself performed "Superstition" on Sesame Street in April 1973 but the clip got repeated over & over again. I must have first seen it in 1976 or 1977. The song was utterly unlike anything I ever heard before. Dad listened to solely classical music at the time, Mom was more into easy listening pop (think lots of Neil Diamond and Mac Davis). I was growing up in Boulder, Colorado while my Dad attended the University of Colorado.

Sesame Street has its origins in funky urban spaces. Early skits featured many multicultural ideas and a starring character called Roosevelt Franklin who led urban children to better places in the mind. The spread of the show beyond the confines of NYC also led to a reduction of its black aspects(1) — RF became something less than a minor character—but from the Root comes the Fruit. And the funky sensibilities of the show never really went away. Really, the show's monster allegories were an amazing way to teach difference and how to respect others (there was a reason why conservatives preferred Mister Roger's Neighborhood you know...).

1970 LP featuring Roosevelt Franklin

Funk was not on the menu in my house, nor was it spreading fast by those years. Soon I was hearing the Bee Gees everywhere, seeing every kind of band cop out to disco (remember Kiss' "I Was Made For Loving You"? Elton John and Kiki Dee? Shit, even Pink Floyd got in on some of that four-on-the-floor, hi-hat shit...). But Stevie was something special. A sound I had no way of confirming or understanding. No context. Nothing on the radio that grabbed me in the same way. There was that, and there was the incidental music used whenever Electric Company's Easy Reader (Morgan Freeman (2)) came in.

But those seeds lingered inside me, waiting for the rain to wash them, make them grow. I took in lots of musical influences in the days that freeform radio was still a thing. My dad was a record collector, so it seemed right to start my own: I bought lots of different things, Jethro Tull, the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, then veered into Motown, and later so-called "college rock" and punk. I later had one of the many greatest hits albums by James Brown (a nice balanced one too, a double album, with plenty of early 70s heavy funk to go with the soulful 1960s), a healthy amount of Jimi Hendrix, maybe a Sly Stone cassette — that kept the ashes hot. But the 1980s with its disco backlash and the synthesification of funk acts brought no real satisfaction. I enjoyed MJ (very much in secret (3)) and I really loved Prince, but there was no history available to me to feed my soul, to bridge the arc backwards.

That rain came in 1988, with the release of De La Soul's "3 Feet High and Rising" and its exhilarating funk sounds & breaks. That keyboard riff from Funkadelic's "(Not Just) Knee Deep" opened the floodgates for me. Golden Age hip hop came streaming out, with its glorious arcana of funk samples (I especially loved X-Clan, BDP, Public Enemy, A Tribe Called Quest—others too, but those were the records I had at the time). This was a sound unlike anything I've ever heard, reconstructed in staggering new ways. These DJs & producers were creating a living history, not deadening nostalgia, not some trendy look back (always plenty of that to go around), but a reimagination of what we owe the past, and what that past means to us. A way to use it to build a future.

Anyways, Parliament soon followed ("The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein" was my first P-Funk album, recorded onto cassette from a college friend's CD). Later funk-rock bands helped scratch the itch — I appreciated the Red Hot Chili Peppers' respect for the old school, and no one was a bigger Fishbone fan than me. This was a time of so-called "Black Rock Movement"(4) — and I dug Living Colour, 24-7 Spyz, and of course loved loved Bad Brains. Prince of course stuck with me through myriad changes of taste.

That historical connection, a sense for the deep currents that Funk embodies came with a paperback copy of Ricky Vincent's Funk: The Music, The People, and The Rhythm of the One. There I learned why this old music was culturally significant, historically important, how it all fit together. His appendix listed hundreds of LPs to seek out, and seek them I did. I learned about Trouble Funk, the Isley Brothers, early Kool & the Gang, the Meters, Betty Davis. From there it was into the crates and the compilations, always seeking deeper and rarer. I continue to scrape around today, loving the plethora of "deep funk" compilations that curate the breadth of this musical juggernaut.

Now, with the reinitialization of "Music on the One," (5) I am able to bring to life these smoldering embers, reconnect with the Funk in my soul, articulate its lessons and importance to American society. Now I'm grown, I've read Marx and Frantz Fanon. I've watched the contradictions of white supremacist capitalism only become more spasmodic, more devastating, more sinister. I see that nothing racist is new: it's the same steaming pile of shit fresh from the microwave. Funk has an answer to all that, because America has gone through this shit before, over & over again.

The struggles of Funk artists to articulate reality are the same that face hip hop artists, slam poets, and BLM activists. Names have changed, the forces aligned against humanity have not.

I see the tears of fragile white privilege and realize that history is the means to growing up at last. Not as nostalgia. Not as novelty. Not as platform shoes. We need to see the threads of history and cultural pressures and heritage the way a DJ sees a break: on the fly, spot it coming off a spinning object — a living truth that just needs to be re-contextualized to make the people move. What's relevant is under the needle. What is old serves its purpose in these coursing patterns of existence because the struggle is not new. White privilege only makes it seem like a new problem to many and insists that we have no context for facing it. Ignoring history is privilege — and ignorance is bliss. The DJ does not forget, he or she just keeps it in the mix. So you know it ain't going away.

Sorry to get all political at the end of what started as a personal reminisce, but the urge is to speak nothing but truth. Fantasy and self-delusion is what has brought society to this point. And anyway the personal is the political. So there.

I also find it difficult to admire the music without trying to understand its politics and shaping cultural forces. It's what moves these songs' genius from amusing and entertaining to inspiring and thought-provoking. I said it elsewhere: a brain can be both edified and set to shaking it at one and the same moment.


(1) Some say there was discussion that Roosevelt Franklin was considered too much of a stereotype, and needed to be scoped back.

(2) This was years before Freeman became the Mandatory Black Actor in Hollywood.

(3) In my school, all the real boys preferred hair metal, the aggressive sound of White Mediocrity pressed into wax. It was just very very totally obvious there was nothing sexually ambiguous about screeching guys in tights and long hair. Not at all -- it was all Michael's fault for being sensitive.

(4) This term always got under my skin. Rock was the term used to classify black music in the 1950s — it ought to be called "White Rock" if we're really being honest here...

(5) The first "Music on the One" radio show ran from 2001-2003 on Radio 1190 AM (KVCU) in Boulder, Colorado. It started out very mainstream indeed, but I soon learned where the real shit was soon enough. [Incidentally, I located a very old file trying to scope out a Top 25 list of funk songs from when I first started. Needless to say there were only one or two songs there I would still say are essential or fundamental, much less the shit I want to listen to...)

Back in January!

Imaginary LP cover by Mingering Mike

Holiday schedules & travel will force Music on the One to take a few weeks off. There's plenty of Funk to display for you, so have no fear — we'll be back before you know it. I'm always buying records so I'm sure to have new tracks (new to me, that is) for you by then, and I have thousands of other sweet cuts to play & discuss, so we're sure to continue the conversation.

Be back on January 13th for my next show.

Back soon!

Two more album covers by Mingering Mike (look 'im up -- it's way cool!)

Playlist - 12/16/2017

Root Down (And Get It) – Jimmy Smith

1972 Album Cover, Jimmy Smith Live!

Dissinfordollars – Bernie Worrell

Let Me Lay My Funk On You – Poison

Poison

Big Footin’ – Parliament

Walking Home Together – Maceo Parker

Everybody wants to be from Space

Funk Funk – Cameo 

Galaxy – War 

Which Way Do I Disco? – Fuzzy Haskins

LP Cover, Whole Nother Thang by Fuzzy Haskins, 1976

Open Sesame, pt 2 - Kool & the Gang (link is to clip from Saturday Night Fever (1977) featuring this song)

Mr. Cool – Rasputin Stash

Detail from 1971 LP Cover, Rasputin's Stash [sic]

You Don’t Need a Dance! – Breakestra    
Cloud Nine – The Temptations
Detroit – Paul Humphrey & The Cool-Aid Chemists

Mandrill showcase (Five Sets All the Way Live)

Pages from booklet included with Just Outside of Town (1974)

Fencewalk (1973)
Mango Meat (1974)
Ali Bombaye I (Zaire Chant) (link is to Ali fight in Zaire with crowd chant)
Funky Monkey (1977)
Lord of the Golden Baboon (1972)
Cohelo (1972)

Back Cover, Mandrilland (1974)

Side One of Mandrilland (1974)

Positive Thing

Positive Thing +
Skying Upward

The Road to Love

Armadillo

Livin' It Up (1976)
Hang Loose (1973)

Mandrill (1971)

LP Cover, Mandrill (1971)

Suite: Peace and Love (Amani na Mapenzi)

— Movement I (Birth)

— Movement II (Now)
— Movement III (Time)

— Movement IV (Encounter)

— Movement V (Beginning)

Can You Get It (Suzie Caesar) (1977)

Children of the Sun (1972)

Rear Cover, Mandrill Is (1972)

Just Kissed My Baby – The Meters    

Getting Down for Xmas – Milly and Silly

Home Is Where the Hatred Is – Esther Phillips

Running – Baby Huey and the Babysitters
Rainy Day, Dream Away – The Jimi Hendrix Experience

Front & rear LP Cover, Electric Ladyland (1968, UK version only)

a bit about "The Break"
Amen Brother – The Winstons (link is to NWA's "Straight Outta Compton" which samples the break: diced up & slowed down)
Looking Out My Window - Tom Jones (link is to Stesasonic's "Go Stetsa" (1986) which samples the break)

Getting the Corners – The TSU Tornados

45 Label, "Getting the Corners" by The TSU Tornados

Time For Change – Speedometer

Getting Uptown (To Get Down) – United 8

The Stretch, pt 1 – The Detroit Sex Machines

Image of the Detroit Sex Machines onstage back in tha day

Funky Hot Grits – Rufus Thomas

Hold On – Alabama Shakes
Take Yo' Praise - Camille Yarbrough (link is to Fatboy Slim's "Praise You" which samples this song)

LP Cover, Camille Yarbrough, The Iron Pot Cooker (1975)

We'll be on a short hiatus during the holidays. Music on the One returns on January 13th for a new semester of Deep Bottom. Take care of yourselves & your loved ones during the holidays! Much love!