More Power to the People

Rounding out the scintilating trio of 1971 freak outs (see Headless Heroes of the Apocalypse & There's a Riot Goin' On) is this, Funkadelic's LSD-drenched manifesto. This masterpiece takes the shape of an entropic epic in retrograde motion and like those other two apocalyptic sonic documents of '71, Maggot Brain comes off as generally rapped up in post-60s disillusionment. Opening with George Clinton's prophesizing "Mother Earth is pregnant for the third time, for y'all have knocked her up. I have tasted the maggots in the mind of the universe, I was not offended for I knew I had to rise above it ALL, or drown in my own SHIT" we are swiftly swept into Eddie Hazel's sludgey six-string trascendence. Clinton's bold production choice to drop all accompanying instruments but guitar arpeggios and snare drum tell us from the start who is in the driver's seat for this experiential trip of an album as well as what a visionary he truly was. With an acoustic guitar riff we're chimed into the upbeat ode to capitalistic love, "Can You Get to That" only to headbang that lesson away to the promiscuous "Hit It and Quit It". Closing the first side is the nursery rhyme derived plea for the virtue of community amongst classes "You and Your Folks, Me and My Folks. "Super Stupid" provides a heavy-rocking reintroduction and a sound that Lenny Kravitz would make a career out of in the inverted 60s. Following is "Back In Our Minds", a deranged return to consciousness setting us up for the domestic degeneracy, street rioting and ultimate nuclear devastation of the thoroughly corporealizing "Wars of Armageddon". In just six numbers Funkadelic manages to take you on a journey from your cerebral cortex to your bowels and through every facet of humanity in between.

I've linked for you here the reissue with the incredible bonus tracks "Whole Lot of BS" and "I Miss My Baby" as well as the unmixed version of the Maggot Brain jam, replete with acid fried backing track. Go on Hit It an' Quit!

Riot

The best burnout of the 20th century would have to come from the '60s wouldn't it? And it would of course have to come from Sly Stone, the number of drugs he used in the recording and production of this album likely being close to the amount of overdubs. This hazy trip into the socio-political mind of America's foremost popular Soul/R&B/Funk group at the time cast an inescapable shadow over the futures of hip-hop and electronic music movements alike. Tape hiss and a mix determined more by mechanical degradations than human ears convey the claustrophobic nature of Sly's creative process as well as his drug-induced paranoia perfectly. Here and there darkly tinged proto-electro-soul pop non sequitors emerge ("Runnin' Away"), freeing the listener enough to breath deep before revisiting one of the Family's anthems through Stone's murky disillusionment ("Thank You For Talking To Me Africa"). This is still avant and lo-fi by today's standards, let alone seethingly cynical and funky.

Africa is talking to you

Jungle Love

This comes as a reminder that even on Valentine's Heavy Shit still goes down. Similarly this disc would seem to have come as reminder to the world in '61 that Heavy Shit still goes down in jazz. With the move towards the public adoption of jazz as a foundation of North American cultural identity by the end of the '50s, all but the acknowledgement of the continuing opression of its originators had been accepted into mainstream (read: white) media. This, no doubt, posed itself as a challenge to those great minds of jazz to push the extremely progressive idiom into the stratosphere of experiential composition and performance. No group could be more apt to do this than this colossal meeting of minds, the original Power Violence power trio. As with much of the rest of their catalogue, Duke and Chaz set about recontextualizing and reconfiguring the older musical forms from which jazz sprung with the disintegration of post/hard-bop as backdrop. Max goes about doing what he does best: drop innovative rhythm bombs over everything. The opening drum lick of the title track(and track in its entirety) was arguably the most brutal moment in jazz at that point. What makes this record destructively brilliant is that none of these musical muscles hold back whatsoever. The full-on audio assault of the album's rockers as well as the floating serenity of the ballads are all treated with the same tastefully immersed participation (or lack thereof) of each musician featured here. Money Jungle is an atmospheric stew of the physical substances of jazz's underbelly - hooch, prostitutes, switchblades, drug money, session joints - distilled into a freely interpretive and rhythmically liberated landscape.

DIG

She Was Different

   

  Git In There!

  

Anti-Love 

Even with the recent renaissance of interest in her highly innovative musical output, Betty Davis remains one of the most underrated figures in music. Leave out the all-too-talked-about marriage to and influence on Miles Davis (we get it), being backed by some of the funkiest line-ups ever (among their ranks former Family Stone members, Herbie Hancock, Alphonse Mouzon...) and an unmistakeable image, Betty Davis should be praised for the sexual revolutionary that she was. Her in-your-face "I don't give a damn" lyrics were light years ahead of the misogynistic implications of the free love movement and waspy conservatism of second wave feminism. Betty took the female objectification being glorified in male musical circles at the time and threw it back in the mainstream's face. She showed that seduction, sexual deviation and promiscuity have implicit power and were not simply tools for gender oppression and championed other taboo sexuality like masturbation ("In The Meantime"). As for the music, it reminds us pungently of where the term funk comes from. You can practically smell these bass and guitar licks while drums and keys stay a throbbing pulse to keep your hips gyrating. Betty soars over it all with a vocal approach half-way between Sly Stone and Patti Smith. By the time of her third album, Nasty Gal, her vocals had grown into their own commanding raspy bellow of bedroom domination. Start with these two classics and see if you don't start sweating.

Two sides of Gene / left rev MCD

Gene side - Popular, commercial, smooth, "vanilla", straight, orchestral,  patriarchal, crooning.

Strangely I came to know the identity of this incredible voice through his not so sappy, yet not so subtle Jack Nitzsche arranged hit "Walk With A Winner". The overtly competitive machismo that defined this musical seduction of sugar mamas the world over, coupled with Gene's vocal bravado, won me quickly, helped by a few well-placed tubular bell parts from Jack. I quickly sought out his discography, which at first disappointed me with its over-saturation of (A. Nobody) writer credits and chart fluff as well his credit for penning forgettable Yardbirds hit "I'm A Man" ("that's spelled M-A-N"). However my further discoveries of this fascinating figure's pedigree sowed seeds for whats become a longtime appreciation for both Gene's smaltzy beginnings and his Hip-Hop championed self-reinvention...

left rev MCD side - Unhinged, political, funky, dark, stoned, fused, radical, unnerving.

This is the artist that lands himself as one of the greats to be remembered this and every month. The indescribable feeling of hearing "get it together... SEE WHAT'S HAPPENING!" in its original musical context as well as the "Jagger the Dagger" groove will never leave me, having redefined my teenage ear as profoundly as Q-Tip and the Beasties defined my adolescent one. Headless Heroes is one of those extremely unique early moments after jazz's heydey in which you truly get to see the black indivdual in total unabashed, political, social and artistic expression, all synthesized into a truly experiential album. The unmistakable textures on this record would inspire a generation of disciples to the vinyl statements of black cultural consciousness of which MCD was at the fore. Even his adoption of the Master of Ceremonies abreviation began a tradition that became central to hip-hop and rap culture. The ease with which the left rev spins something like Jesus' love, supermarkets and discovery of the americas into fever-pitched, politically charged lyrical landscapes is impressive in light of the climate of media repression around such issues. Mention must also be made of one Alphonse Mouzon who's performance at the drumkit here is unrivaled by any other. Playing with bold character and wild abandon, Mouzon's deep grooves and chopped polyrhytmic breaks shape the percussive backbone of hip-hop to the present day. I have no doubt anyone who hears this will fall head over heels for the bleeding heart radical that Eugene McDaniels became and produced his most influential work as.

GET IT TOGETHER

AfroFuture

This needs no introduction nor petty bantering text soon to be lost in the vortex of the internet. What you need to know: Black History Month is here, it has been here. Black Americans are here, they have been here. They have changed things greatly and for so much the better. You need to appreciate them, my posts this month are going to give you some musical examples of why. You are now entering an outerspace.

Space is the Place