THAT FUNK

Funk is alien music. It is channeled by the cosmos and if you leave your conduit open long and wide enough it might just decide to come on in. Funk is a feeling or better said, a collective of all feelings colliding at once in a perpendicular universe inhabited by civilizations far more advanced than our own. Funk is primal music coated in thick tribal drum nectar. Funk is barbequed get down that cuts through bone and marinates in the bottom of one’s soul. Funk is deep fried creativity served up with a side of goddamn! Funk is a soul brother and a valued companion; the local street prophet in your personal space telling you how it was, how it is, and how it might still come to be. Funk is a greasy shotgun blast of half-gnawed chicken wangs unleashed from a bop gun well within the city limits. Funk is super out-of-body, bass-thumping, freak music for outcasts; the haves and have-nots that can feel it, smell it, touch it and hear it and those that can’t. Funk is a life anthem for the sly and the ugly. Funk is for people from the fringe; tweekers and pluckers who take the best pieces of everything from the galaxy junkyard and pull sounds into a wonderfully syncopated sonic collage held together by the big beat. Funk is democratic in spirit and socialist in nature; rooted in a team concept in which the many work within a unified pursuit of universal rhythm. Funk is not just a state of mind, but of being. Funk is. by Clyde Davenport