This is my review of George Clinton & Parliament-Funkadelic at the Palace Theatre, Melbourne, on Monday 25th April 2011. However, it begins with the story of my introduction to The Funk. Scroll down if you aren’t interested in this, the review follows after the dotted line.
That being said, I am aware the review itself is pretty longwinded, so probably only fellow funkateers will be interested. It’s more for my own memory’s purpose. Enjoy!
A few short years ago, I was completely unaware of the musical style & intergalactic phenomenon known as The Funk. I had only recently discovered jazz, and was puttering along through the first year of my Bachelor of Music. Then, through some fortuitous circumstance, I met the one who I would later come to call my Brother In Funk – Jimmy James. I was in dire need of a housemate, and shortly after meeting Jimmy, he moved in. A tall & charismatic figure with long blonde hair, he had the appearance of a bit of a rocker – and he was – leather jackets & band t-shirts aside, he was a guitarist at the Conservatorium whose electric guitar playing close to 24 hours a day very nearly drove me insane. But there was a large part of Jimmy which was not rocker, it was something related, yet altogether different. He would dance in the kitchen, pose in doorways, and pull some truly extraordinary faces. Jimmy James had The Funk, and proceeded to introduce me to it.
It didn’t take long for me to learn of Jimmy’s obsession with a certain purple-clothed funkster named Prince. I watched in amazement as he showed me videos of Prince performing live – the outrageous sexuality, blinding outfits, and sheer explosive energy completely blew me away. I’d never seen anything like it. A common sight around The House Of Funk, as it came to be known, was me with my poor innocent little mouth hanging open in shock at the lyrics coming from the speakers in Jimmy’s room. More arresting than the sex, the show, and the shock factor, however, was the groove that laid under it all.
When Jimmy played me some Parliament for the first time, it was like being punched in the gut, in the very best way. I was hooked from that moment on. My hips were never the same again. I grooved around the kitchen with Jimmy, and leapt around my bedroom like a mad thing when I was alone.
It took a while, however, for me to truly become immersed in The Funk. Jimmy moved out eventually, and continued to pass me the occasional new song, but it was only from halfway to the end of last year that I started to really commit to the groove. Jimmy & I started spending a lot more time together, he introduced me to more artists like D’Angelo, Erykah Badu, Me’Shell Ndegeocello. We got the wheels turning on finally getting together the funk band we’d been talking about for so long. Jimmy had taken up bass, and that was that. I was a devoted funkateer, heart, soul, & booty.
While there are two or three groups around Hobart who provided me with the tidbits of funky acid jazz, or funky rock, I didn’t have much of a chance to experience true live funk. I saw Lowrider at MS Fest early this year, who doled out a generous portion of low-down, funky, hip-hop-tasting groove. But the highlight so far has been this past Monday – when I saw Dr Funkenstein himself, George Clinton & his Parliament-Funkadelic mob, at the Palace Theatre in Melbourne.
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I was super excited when I heard that the P-Funk were coming to Melbourne, booked my ticket right away, & straightened out my enormous bright purple flares. However, my funk brother declined to come with me, which at first I was perplexed by, but he had a point. George Clinton is getting on a bit – at nearly 70, and after a life full of music, touring, & copious amounts of various substances… when I spoke to my friend & fellow funkateer Bob, he mentioned that he’d seen footage of a fairly recent P-Funk gig wherein George pretty much just sat on the stage nodding his head the whole time. I understood this might be the case, but I was sure the band would be awesome nonetheless, having heard that it consisted of partly some of the old funkers from way back when, and partly of young blood. Still, knowing relatively little about the group, having heard hardly any Funkadelic and not even a huge amount of Parliament, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from the gig.
The poster advertised 3 hours of groove. I prepared myself to dance like I’d never danced before. The Palace Theatre is lovely, roomy without losing intimacy, and just the right amount of old-fashioned. The house music included Prince, Stevie Wonder, & Michael Jackson – promising. It was a pretty good turnout. I was interested to see who the audience would be, and I was pleased to see a large amount of young people like myself, as well as those obviously longtime diehard funkateers from way back. There was the occasional Parliament or Funkadelic t-shirt (including my own – the Maggot Brain cover one, with the eternal slogan on the back – “Free your mind, and your ass will follow!”) as well as a few small pockets of people in bizarre outfits including clown costumes, smiley-face onesies, shiny star-studded capes, bear hats, etcetera.
I don’t have a good memory for details such as which songs the band played or that kind of thing, but this is what I do remember.
The male lead singer was amazing – seriously one of the best singers I have ever heard. He sounded a lot like the voice on the recordings I’ve heard, but seemed too young to have been the one who originally recorded the stuff. There were two gorgeous girl BV singers, shakin’ it & generally enjoying themselves, who were mad soloists in their own rights & each got a moment to shine. There were numerous other musicians, and a few guys who sang or took a turn riling up the audience. George’s granddaughter came onstage and did a fantastic rap. And then there was the great man himself – who, to my delight, did not just spend the whole time sitting and nodding, but was almost constantly up the front, singing, leading, directing the band occasionally, and just generally being a presence. Sure, his voice these days is completely shredded, and you gotta listen a little harder to understand what he’s saying, but he was there, he was having fun, and he made a connection.
I was surprised that I hardly noticed horns but for one sax at one point. I was also surprised that the bassist spent the entire time hiding over near the drums – bass being such a huge element of funk, I was expecting him to get some spotlight, but hey, I guess he was doing his job well & just sittin’ on it.
I may be slightly biased, but I’d say that the biggest star, performance-wise, of the evening was possibly the character known as Sir Nose D’Voidoffunk, played by one Carlos McMurray. I say I may be slightly biased, because I spent a generous amount of time feeling him up… but I’ll get to that.
As per the P-Funk mythology, Sir Nose first appears (in enormous, white, furry pimp hat & matching jacket & flares) claiming he’s “too cool to dance”, attempting to discourage the audience from clapping or dancing or singing, as George eggs us on. It was particularly exciting for me to see the manifestation of one of these hilarious characters I’d sung about so often… this was really like being back in the heyday of P-Funk, with all the theatrics. And Sir Nose certainly did deliver in that department. As the Bop Gun gets to him & he gets in touch with his inner funkiness, the nose comes off, as does the jacket and the hat, and BOY, can he ever DANCE. I’ve never seen muscles like that in my life, and especially not muscles that can MOVE like that. Undulations were his mind-bending speciality, complimented by handstands, bends, and other such feats. He climbed the stacks of speakers at the side of the stage, did handstands on them, and spent the rest of the evening jumping & climbing all over everything, dancing, showing off his abs, and generally being ridiculously sexy.
Shortly after his first appearance, Sir Nose picked one girl out of the audience & they spent a song or two gyrating around each other. I inched my way closer & closer to the barrier at the very front, hoping all the eye contact I’d been making with the BV singers might score me a similar honour. And I wasn’t disappointed! Later on in the show, he started looking out into the audience again, & pointing to a few people. The male singer who I’d shared lots of smiles with leaned out & pointed me out to Sir Nose. A group of girls & myself were led up the stairs at the side, and then led onto the stage by Sir Nose. There was one girl in front of me, but she shied away when he put his hand out behind him to lead us on, so I stepped in and took it. The next amazing few minutes were some of the best of my life – dancing onstage with George Clinton & his P-Funk mob, smiling at my fellow fortunate funkateers, grinding (!) with the droolworthy Sir Nose, and looking out over the sea of people dancing, singing, cheering, & waving their hands in the air. This is the stuff funky dreams are made of.
I think the thing which impressed me the most about the show was how much the whole band seemed to really care about their audience & made a huge effort to connect with us & make sure we were having a good time. The BV singers were constantly making eye contact, pointing at people, winking, flirting with the audience. There was heaps of audience participation of course, clapping & singing, and the other singers & crowd-rilers would hold the mic stands down for people in the front row to sing into, or lean down and fist-bump us. During a certain song involving the words “SOMETHING STANK AND I WANT SOME”, people in the audience were lighting up joints & passing them to the guys on stage, who would take a few tokes, pass them around, and then pass them back into the crowd. The security at the venue were very good-natured about these antics.
The best example of this genuine care for the crowd was when a guy was pulled out of the pit by security – I’m not sure what he did, but he was pulled out by a couple of guards & taken over to one side of the barrier. The music continued, but one of the singers ran over after them to make sure he was okay. Later on, after the first girl was taken up onstage but before I & the others got up, one dude decided it was a good idea to stand on the barrier & jump from there to the stage. Security were onto him pretty quick and he was dragged down & off, but again they were chased – this time by the badass-looking chick on guitar – who made the effort to shake the guy’s hand & make sure he was okay.
How many bands do you see going to that much trouble to make their audience feel included & cared about? And I think that’s the true essence of the community that revolves around The Funk. The music is all about feeling good, acceptance, dancing, being in touch with your inner groove, your body, the real things in life – above all, having good times with good friends. The atmosphere at the gig was so positive. I went up to a few groups of people afterwards & introduced myself, made some friends straight away… and while I’m the kind of person who does that anyway, it really was the kind of evening where anyone could do that.
While the show clearly wasn’t anywhere near what the Mothership Experience would’ve been like back in the heyday of the P-Funk, it was definitely the best gig I’ve been to yet, a big ol’ party of love and groove and The Funk. Thankyou, George, Sir Nose, and all the others – all my love, from the girl in the purple pants. <3
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