Producer Demon’s Midnight Funk was my first introduction to French House and its contemporaries (such as the more well-known producer duo Daft Punk). Despite the album being a revelatory glimpse of what the genre will later propose, a combination of sensation and technology, I was always confused with its title. Whilst the “Midnight” part is self-explanatory—the question was why the album presented itself as “Funk;” clearly it falls under EDM, right? In hindsight, that’s a foolish question. Obviously, the two genres aren’t the same; I’d say that one feels far more repetitive and programmed, whilst the latter relies more on its liveliness. But house is derived from funk music, as well as other fancy music tropes such as disco and jazz. That’s why they share a lot of similarities: danceable rhythms and groovy bass lines.
In fact, all of you probably heard a little bit of funk in your musical lifestyles. Have you wondered why so many hip-hop releases are called G-funk? Funk was what they were primarily sampled off. Have you tried R&B or bebop? You’ve basically heard the foundations of funk. Have you tried James Brown? Well, he’s just funk! Although, what you’ve not heard—is the pulse of those first-beat emphasis under the pitch-black skies. And this journey is for you, for the newcomers to the oblique land of energy and rhythms. Let’s stay away from the definition of funk and focus on the spectacles that the genre has brought us. Come join us, midnight dancers.
Hot Pants
It’s now idiotic: looking back to how 60s acts kept putting out such meaningless and disposable albums, often based on pre-released and mass-promoted lead singles. And funk’s pioneer James Brown is guilty of that—just like the many other things he’s done. After the success of The Famous Flames, James Brown went to a shimmering streak of solo/group albums, adding up to 31 full-length album releases before putting out Hot Pants (and countless more in the years following). But the quality was quite disconcerting. Not only does a huge proportion of the album consist of reinterpretations of other songs, but most of them aren’t even—funk. Contradictory to the common belief that James Brown was primarily a funk musician, funk was almost non-existent in Brown’s music before Cold Sweat. His primary style was soul, yet the peculiar scent of funk was still prevalent in his music at his breakthrough in Live at The Apollo. Although, I’d confidently say that the funk era was his prime.
Hot Pants delivers possibly the funkiest record Brown has ever stepped in. Independent from King Label and having undergone some major changes regarding The J.B.’s, the album propels us into a new era of Brown. It’s a benchmark of his musical maturation, something which is continuously undermined by such versatile talents as his. Apart from that, Hot Pants is an example of masterful arrangement. The static bassline groove, together with the harmonious riffs and the occasional ad-libs, create an indistinguishable sound that screams funk. Some of them don’t come from the playing itself; some of them come from the live interactions between James Brown and the onstage veterans. These are the spectacles of classic R&B, and other live recordings as well. Whether it’s some pedestrians walking by, or a performer passing some callouts, out-of-the-blue interactions bring a joyous spirit to the record. It’s what creates a middle ground between improvised live music and meticulously produced albums. And oh man, Hot Pants has a lot of them!
Stand!
Now that James Brown’s haunting soul has left us, I’ll do some talking behind his back. There exists a limpid ambivalence regarding the works of James Brown. Even though Brown was undoubtably the most influential figure in funk, his catalogue was always hit-or-miss. Even with the advanced recording technologies which were in front of him during the mid-60s, plus The Beatles coming up with some incredible advancements in the music industry, Brown’s music didn’t really go anywhere. His singles had some highlights, and his influence lived long, but his legacy as an album-maker was left to deteriorate over time. In addition, funk might have been a fun genre to dance around, but it also had a close tie with the American Civil Rights Movement. James Brown was neither the best lyricist, nor the best showman.
Sly Stone wasn’t a great showman either, he was rather the antonym of that. He was evidently paranoid of his bandmates, and he infamously took some extreme measures to fulfill his paranoia. And while Brown stayed sober during most of his music career, Stone was not. Stone wasn’t an exception from all the atrocities which were going on in the mid-60s when the widespread influence of heroin had put ends to so many musicians’ lives. But Stone was a phonemical lyricist. His words represented peace, which America was desperate for amid the perpetual violence and discrimination that plagued the 60s. His music had a rightful influence; the colorful optimism of Stone’s lyrics acted as a healthy moral boost for many African Americans, except for, unfortunately, Stone himself.
Some say that funk is a melting pot of genres, consisting of R&B, soul, psychedelia, jazz, and so on. I’m not in full agreement with this, considering that musical influences are barely depictable as singular genres. But in the case of Sly & The Family Stone, those influences may well have been the selling point. Ranging from the mid-60s psychedelic to the newly emerging funk, it’s almost impossible to describe how widely inspired the album sounds. It’s like how I’d describe the music of Jimi Hendrix; there’s so many extravagant ideas, that it almost sounds new. And as for both artists, their styles began to subtly be cemented as musical norms. For example, to many whom have lived the 60s, Stand was their introduction to funk, as its commercial success was incomparable in his discography, much like how Lauryn Hill introduced neo-soul to the normies. Thereon, the style of Sly & The Family Stone developed into the genre’s cliché.
There are a few things you must look out for when listening to Sly & The Family Stone. First and foremost, respond to the album’s overarching groove. Before rave became a dominant party trend, disco and funk stood in place as the major dance-floor toe-tappers. And that’s where Stand finds its place! It’s a music for joy, unification, and positivity. It’s a distraction and an accompaniment, directed at the life that lets you down sometimes. Hear the bassline of ‘I Want to Take You Higher,’ or ‘Sex Machine,’ forget about your stress and understand that even some of the most repetitious and basic melodies, can bring joy to the ears. Secondly, listen to the album’s complex yet mesmerizing structure. It takes a great effort to balance every component of a mix, and at times, the result turns out to be something so impressive, as seen from Peter Gabriel 3 or Abbey Road. In Stand the brass, the drums, the bass, and the background vocals are layered perfectly, capturing every edge of the song’s excellence. A team of 3 engineers has participated in creating this wonderful soundscape, including Don Puluse, who signed his name on other influential projects such as Off the Staff by Batdorf & Rodney. But believe it or not, Stone will go on to hire 7 engineers for what will become his next project, There’s A Riot Goin’ On—arguably his magnum opus.
Maggot Brain
People always complain about how music trends shift rapidly, reminiscing on what they considered the “glory days” of music. Music has always been fast, changing and evolving with the culture around it. From the ‘60s to the ‘70s there have been the rise and fall of various stardoms and trends: people got bored of bebop; disco and funk became dominating genres; Jimi Hendrix revolutionized guitar; production techniques significantly improved; rock n’ roll’s definition changed; and so on. But like music, funk evolved a lot too. It evolved with the pace of the overall music scene, by integrating their current influences and trying to fit the consumer needs. Thereby if you dig deep into the 70s funk releases, you’ll find a charm that didn’t exist in the 60s. Look at Funkadelic, Parliament, or the Parliaments, it’s as if the songs were arranged by the same dudes—how interesting.
But looking at P-funk, a term regarding the vast universe of George Clinton’s collectives, the musical trends sat very close to their soundscape. Influenced by Four Tet and The Temptations’ Motown, Ornette Coleman’s free jazz, and Sly & The Family Stone’s funk, it’s an understatement to value P-funk as a quotidian funk movement (although the release schedule may have been, indeed, quotidian). Instead, it’s a product of it’s era, and the various other movements beside it: the conventions that were broken, and the technologies that were introduced. Take an example of the drenched guitar lead in ‘Hit It and Quit It,’ the modulating ambiance of their bluesy melodies sounds nothing like James Brown’s Sex Machine. Instead, it resembles the early works of The Doors, or any other psychedelic-rock acts following them.
But Maggot Brain is a little bit of a problem, because unlike the previous contestants, it’s far away from a one-trick pony in tap dancing. Rather, it’s one of those albums that comes with a video essay, one that you must consider the “every aspect” of.
I propose that my favorite way to listen to Maggot Brain is to fully concentrate on it. A plethora of albums are released every week, but there’s only a few which truly encapsulate the listeners. Maggot Brain is one of them; although labeled as funk, it transcends the idea that dance music must be one-dimensional. The deeper you go into this piece of work, the more your fascination will grow. The lyrics are masterful, especially in ‘Can You Get That’ which feels like a musical fever dream but an incredibly well-made one. It Includes some hilarious lines such as “Checks you signed with love and kisses. Later come back signed ‘insufficient funds,’” and other thought-provoking lines such as “I once had a life, or rather life had me. I was one among many or at least I seemed to be.” But how Maggot Brain truly shines as a passion project, comes from the tracks’ idiosyncratic identity. Whether it’s the eerie guitar solo during ‘Super Stupid,’ sanguine chorus in ‘You and Your Folks, Me and My Folks,’ or the psychedelic opening of ‘Maggot Brain,’ each tracks feel distinct from one another other. You can name any song from Maggot Brain as the fan-favorite; no one would question it.
Sign o’ The Times
Groove is a recurring visitor to this article, and in my defense, it’s arguably the crux of the genre. Ironically, what first comes to my mind when referring to groove, might be the work least related to funk. Funk influence in Sign “O” The Times is partial, in traditional standards. Since the 1970s, variations of funk have grown in popularity, such as Herbie Hancock with his Head Hunters, or David Byrne and Talking Heads with their bizarre album catalogue. And those innovations soon returned to the main funk scene. Instead of authentic rhythms and basslines, everything became synthetic—from wobbly synthesizers to sequenced drum machines. Derived from everyone’s favorite instrument, people called this 80s phenomenon as “synth-funk.”
Prince is an extremely talented artist. Unlike P-Funk, which previously dominated the scene, he’s a one-man brand. And yet, he was able to create such unique and harmonious sounds, establish his creative visions and create a long-lasting legacy—being an influence on future eminences such as Janelle Monae and Kendrick Lamar. In Sign “O” The Times, Prince is the spectacle. The laid-back sensual lyrics and the extensive vocal dynamics are the guarantees of his music, identical to the qualities of—for example—Purple Rain, despite having such different styles. But to approach it from the perspective of a funk traditionalist, Sign “O” The Times does contain a collection of immersive grooves. In fact, it’s one of the most bass-dominated works of the pop atmosphere, where the music’s significant part is solely defined by the percussions and the bass. It’s also Prince’s singing style, characterized by short syllables and syncopations, that makes this album funky. Have a listen to his vocal in ‘Housequake,’ how can this not be the model technique for funk?