The complex world of George Clinton’s P-Funk collective can be tricky to delineate. I own more from the Parliament side of the coin than from Funkadelic, but have always struggled to distinguish the real difference between the two entities.
This here is one of many greatest hits collections from these funk icons. It contains some of the greatest recorded sounds you will ever here. These guys took what James Brown was doing (and many of his band members) and added an absurdity and lack of restraint he was never quite willing to embrace.
The basslines are contagious, the vocals primal (and regularly silly). How can you resist grooves (and stage garb) like this?:
Freak of the Week, One Nation…, and the astounding Who Says A Funk Band Can’t Play Rock? make this album (or any album with said tracks a ‘must own’).
The rest of the album doesn’t ever hit those heights (although it is fun to play ‘spot the sample’). The adventures into psychedelia have never quite grabbed me. I thus play my Parliament collections much more regularly.
I do wish I’d been there for their 1970s live extravaganzas however.
File under: Get some funk in your trunk
Posted in F
Tagged album, album review, CD review, funk, Funkadelic, George Clinton, James Brown, music, music review, P-Funk, Parliament
Back in the early-ish 1990s I was a potentially pathological pursuer of the Tlot Tlot phenomenon.
This Melbourne duo pumped out nonsense rhymes and pop silliness on guitar and keys backed by a drum machine. Thus they were lazily likened to NYC’s They Might Be Giants.
I regale you with this tale as it explains the appeal of this album from former Tlotian Stanely Paulzen and a newer buddy.
A classic from the Tlotite live show finally gets a recorded run here. Please Don’t Ask For An Apology is the sort of tune that’d race out the door as a very early draft pick if such things occurred in the songwriting world.
The TMBG comparison is truly justifiable with respect to With the Exception of Saturn, an astronomical love analogy that the two Johns would happily call their own.
This album doesn’t have the pure pap charm of its predecessor in the Astereo oeuvre, but it is still a perfect lazy Saturday afternoon spin (and thus well suited to my day today).
And you’ve got to love the zero-budget video Stan produced on the security camera at his work:
File under: Would you like to break dance?
No, I haven’t dived back to the letter A. Fred Astereo is the band’s name.
This is one of the many incarnations of Melbourne’s very creative Stanley Paulzen (also of Tlot Tlot and later Ruck Rover fame). Anyone who has ever encountered him belting out a tune will have a strong recollection of a few characteristics:
– He has a sense of humour that is corny yet from left field
– He seems deliberately uncommercial yet is poppy as all hell
– He has a timeless quality bordering on vaudevillean
This incarnation is where he puts all of that on display. The sound is very much cocktail hour. So crooning one minute, cheesy country the next, and some tunes that sound like they may have prompted flappers dancing in the 1920s. I’m not sure I’ve explained that very well at all. Have a look at this clip (by the way Stan’s the guy in the chair at the very start):
This album is chock full of hummable gems, all nerdy tales of love in various guises. That’s Maths brings asthma into romance. Robot Girl takes love beyond human-to-human, as does the bizarre Egg. How Many Brides? makes country seem way too easy.
Buy this album.
File under: Love songs for the weird at heart
Lou Barlow and his buddy John obviously bore easily.
The three years between Folk Implosion albums saw their sound morph considerably. Into the studio are hauled some samplers, a vocoder and the muffling cotton is removed from the engineer’s ears.
So now we have a more upbeat, somewhat electronic tone. We’re talking less funky than Beck, less idiosyncratic than the Eels.
Unfortunately, what is lost in the mix is the wow factor of Barlow’s voice and the strong sense of intimacy, in the sense of being part of something small and organic (organic in the “close to the source” sense, not the mutant, overpriced vegetables sense).
This is still better than their debut, and interesting in parts, but it never gets me in the same fashion as Dare to Be Surprised, as it feels the lads are going through the motions too often and trying to latch on to some zeitgeist that aint really their thang. Quirky seems to be the aim here, but it is rather forced and awkward:
File under: Sleep easy but unsated.
There’s some bloke in the bible called Lazarus whose name gets invoked whenever someone upsets expectation and returns alive and kicking.
I’m note sure that exact imagery or parallel should be drawn here, as, while the first incarnation of The Folk Implosion certainly seemed dead in the water, there was always that awareness that Lou Barlow had a strong songwriting pedigree.
Here, along with his collaborator John Davis, he delivers a much more pleasing, captivating, soothing set of ditties.
It is all still pretty lo-fi, but with some thought given to the listener. I guess we’re still listening through the wall, but they’ve given us a comfy couch to recline on.
It turns out these guys had some minor mainstream hit in between the two albums (some song from the Kids soundtrack). Maybe that got them thinking about hooks and the like.
The vibe is chilled drums, atmospheric guitar, warm vocals, slowly building and swirling. It’s a little like the quieter stuff the Shins were lauded for almost a decade later.
Barlow has a voice that gets to me, and on tracks like Barricade, Burning Paper and Checking In it is perfectly matched with the sounds around it.
File under:Who dares wins
I clearly need to listen to that Roosevelt Franklin album more closely as my alphabet seems a bit rusty. I skipped over a chunk of the FOs in my collection as I rushed to blues-soul-funk trifecta of my past three reviews.
I thus missed a very white boy – Lou Barlow of Dinosaur Jr/Sebadoh etc fame – and another of his dalliances. I threw this in the CD player well aware that it was lo-fi chicanery from the otherwise rocky Barlow.
What I’d forgotten about was how blatantly underwhelming this album is. It really sounds like a couple of blokes in the middle of writing some new tunes, but a couple of rooms away. There are little snatches of possibility amongst the dross. Barlow’s voice is still somewhat alluring, and one or two tracks (e.g. Had to find out) the guitar work hints at a hook.
But there is really not enough here to warrant listening again. And with the fourteen tunes only adding up to 22 or so minutes of listening pleasure you’ll feel very shortchanged.
File under: Look away now