Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Hartford always had a flair for the irreverent. We leave with a reefer-inspired blessing of Hartford's, known as the track "The Lowest Pair" on Mark Twang:
Much further out than inevitable
Halloween is thy game.
Sky king has come and Wilma's done,
Uncertain as it is uneven.
Give us today hours devours in bed
As we forgive those that have dressed up against us
And need us not enter inflation,
But her liver, onions and potatoes.
For wine is a shingle
And a more, and a story for your father.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Having been inspired by a funk-tastic Karl Denson's Tiny Universe show that brought the dance party heat last weekend, I humbly present to you my Top Five Party Startin' Funk Albums. These are the albums you throw on at a party and play beginning to end once your crowd is socially lubricated enough with drink that dancing is a possibility. The infectious grooves present on these albums will get people moving, and get the party really started. They have been tested in the field over the years, and are the ones I come back to time and time again. Now let us begin the Funk Lesson Countdown:
Honorable Mention: Any Fela Kuti album. Nothin' like some good Afrobeat to lock everyone into the pocket. Most Fela Kuti songs are at least 15-20 minutes long, and are relentless with the hypnotic African funk. I recommend the Confusion/Gentleman album as a start. Also, anything by Antibalas will also do.
5. Maceo Parker - Life on Planet Groove
This live album from 1992 brings the heat. With Fred Wesley on trombone, this is the James Brown horn section funkin' it up and bringin' the house down. The first two tracks, "Shake Everything You Got" and "Pass the Peas," clock in at 28 minutes combined, and provide enough syncopated sax to make your granny shake it.
4. The Greyboy Allstars - Live
Greyboy is one of the great modern funk bands, playing patented West-Coast Boogaloo old-school style. This live album from 1998 is tight as hell, with Karl Denson on sax and jazz flute, and Robert Walter on the crunchy Hammond B3. The band chugs along tight as a drum, and it is very hard not to shake your shit in the process.
3. Lettuce - Rage
A modern classic. Funk supergroup Lettuce just released this album last year, and i have since given it more party play than Rod Stewart in the 70s. With members of Soulive and virtuoso Adam Deitch on drums, this band punches the funk in like it's their business. In my opinion, Lettuce is the tightest and best funk band playing today.
2. The Jacksons - Triumph
I know what you're thinking. Where's Thriller? Well, though it is the #1 all-time party-starting album in the history of mankind, Thriller isn't a funk album. But this criminally underrated album is. It is a wonder no one has heard of it. It was released in 1980, directly in between Off the Wall and Thriller and I see it as equally awesome as Off the Wall. MJ and his brothers have left Motown at this point, which means they changed their name to The Jacksons, and have complete creative control over their music. The result is a fucking awesome album of bass-popping pick-me-up disco-funk tunes that you probably have never heard. Plenty of patented MJ-snapping and clean L.A. production throughout, making for an awesome MJ dance party to songs that you haven't already heard a million times.
1. James Brown - In The Jungle Groove
This is pretty much the holy grail of funk music. It is a compilation of studio jams from 1969 to 1971, which is the period in which James Brown essentially invented funk as we know it. An 18 year old Bootsy Collins plays bass on these tracks, which are the most in-the-pocket grooves to ever punch you in the gut. "Talkin' Loud and Sayin' Nothin'" is my favorite track, with a bouncing lead bass line and a relentless groove that pounds you into the ground, its so deep. "Funky Drummer" is the most sampled track in the history of hip-hop music, if that says anything about the grooves on this album. If this album doesn't get the dance on at your party, then your party sucks. Period.
Thank you, goodnight! And always remember to Pass the Peas.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
With the recent Phish reunion shows at the Hampton Coliseum, this phenomenon has naturally been on my mind. The band's epic, marathon sets have reminded us all of their absence, and how much the cathartic celebrations that are Phish shows have been missed. To get an audience of 15 to 25,000 people to all groove on the same wavelength and in the same headspace is no easy feat, and there is no band today that is able to achieve this feat as effortlessly as Phish can. Phish chose Hampton for these shows, as the venue is particularly conducive to the collective band/audience experience.
But then I got thinking: considering the live electric concert experience has really only existed for about 50 years now, we are extremely lucky to be able to experience such phenomena. Before rock and roll, before electricity and amplification, where did people turn for a good rousing dose of collective mindmeld? In America's past, say 150-250 years ago, what events had the ability to bring large groups of people together in this way?
The answer seems to be public oratory. Public speakers of the 18th and 19th centuries had the ability to gather massive crowds, and the best ones had the ability to profoundly move their audience to a point of transformation. It seems that in those olden days, these events were the closest thing the public had to a live concert. There is an excellent essay by Granville Ganter, entitled “'Tuning In': Daniel Webster, Alfred Schultz, and the Grateful Dead,” in which the author compares the speeches of Daniel Webster with Grateful Dead concerts. Back in the day, people gathered in massive numbers to hear Webster deliver passionate oratory, and were greatly moved by his words. Ganter mentions that in 1840, more than 15,000 people climbed up Mt. Stratton in Vermont to hear Webster speak. This reminds me all too well of Phish's final days in 2004, when thousands of Phishheads stranded in traffic walked up to 25 miles to reach the mud-filled festival site of the band's last shows in Coventry, Vermont. In both cases, we see an audience's intense willingness to go through great lengths to be a part of a special communal event.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, the modern grandaddy of western transcendent thought, was a huge fan of Webster. (He had a huge collection of bootleg Webster shows on tape. “Webster at Plymouth Plantation, 12/22/20? Heady, brah! Set two is killer!”) Emerson defined good oratory as “collective ecstasy,” where audience participation made the event by fusing the speaker with the audience. And in an age before amplification, this meant even more during such events. Emerson wrote that oratory is “an organ of sublime power...But only then is the orator successful when he... is as much a hearer as any in the assembly.” What's that? Breaking down the barriers between audience and performer? Provoking a mystical experience of collective union? Hey, that sounds familiar...
To take it even further back, we can go to one Mr. Ben Franklin's word on the subject. Back in his day, most public speaking was still done by preachers, and religious in nature. Regardless, the best speakers of the time still had the ability to profoundly move massive groups of people. Franklin had a particular love for the sermons of one Reverend George Whitefield, as he preached of morals, and not religious dogma. The following recollection of Franklin's took place around 1740:
His eloquence had a wonderful power over the hearts and purses of his hearers, of which I myself was an instance...He had a loud and clear voice, and articulated his words and sentences so perfectly, that he might be heard and understood at a great distance, especially as his auditories, however numerous, observ'd the most exact silence. He preach'd one evening from the top of the Court-house steps...Both streets were fill'd with his hearers to a considerable distance...I computed that he might well be heard by more than thirty thousand...Every accent, every emphasis, every modulation of voice, was so perfectly well turn'd and well plac'd, that, without being interested in the subject, one could not help being pleas'd with the discourse; a pleasure of much the same kind with that receiv'd from an excellent piece of music.
Right from Franklin's mouth, folks. The Court-house steps must have had a rowdy lot scene.
So be it the year 1740, 1840, or 2009, the public's desire to experience a profound moment of transcendental contact has always existed. Except back in the day, the heavyweights were orators like Daniel Webster and George Whitefield. So I suppose that makes live bands like the Dead and Phish our modern-day preachers, serving up hefty doses of collective transcendence on a regular basis. Try to remember this the next time you're blissing out to a sick “Slave” or “Hood,” as it is good to recall how lucky we are to have these bands in our lives.