I likened George Clinton last time to a
kind of funk Frank Zappa, and this album did nothing to dissuade me, even though it’s
a of bit a reductionist description. Or maybe Zappa is the jazz/rock Clinton?
Either way, Clinton continues to produce some poundingly good funk laced through with sound effects and some synth work to make Brian Eno weep with inadequacy. The album is a loose concept album on a theme that would probably have been made into a film in the Eighties – called something like "Brothas from Space". (While writing this I did recall that there’s a film Brother From Another Planet, but that film was an entirely more serious affair, kind of a black version of The Man Who Fell To Earth. This album would be more like Earth Girls are Easy, Coneheads, Morons from Outer Space etc.).
Either way, Clinton continues to produce some poundingly good funk laced through with sound effects and some synth work to make Brian Eno weep with inadequacy. The album is a loose concept album on a theme that would probably have been made into a film in the Eighties – called something like "Brothas from Space". (While writing this I did recall that there’s a film Brother From Another Planet, but that film was an entirely more serious affair, kind of a black version of The Man Who Fell To Earth. This album would be more like Earth Girls are Easy, Coneheads, Morons from Outer Space etc.).
Like a street version of Ziggy Stardust, the Clinton alter ego Star Child comes to Earth to acquire the planet’s supply of funk – Give Up The Funk (Tear The Roof Of The Sucker). Given his theme tune – Mothership Connection (Star Child), you'd think he’s already got funk to spare. The theme is a loose one at best, there’s only one track that’s not especially connected – Handcuffs – which is, one would hope, a tongue in cheek swipe at chauvanism that claims that a woman is only really happy when suppressed.
The closing track, Night Of The Thumpasaurus Peoples, returns to Clinton’s favourite farty noises, from a synth beat that is quite flatulent in nature, and lyrics that are little more than a chant of “ga ga ga goo ga”, but somehow really work.
Clinton is better than Zappa in many ways, I think, because even when he’s messing about his tracks are never less than deeply infectious funk. I listened to this on earpods while walking the dogs and found myself unconsciously putting on a kind of pimp strut. I’d like to think that had anybody seen me I could have simply pointed to the earpods and said “P-Funk” and they’ve had nodded in understanding.
(Thank you, AI Slop. I'm impressed it came up with the tagline "Right On, Far Out!")
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