February 17, 2000
Of George Clinton's twin pillars of funkateers, Parliament usually gets higher billing for its horn and keyboard-heavy party-bumpin. Lord knows that Parliament’s breaks have been more directly influential on hip-hop, as West Coast G-funk a la Dr. Dre and Snoop is basically just an update of that fabulous synth-stoned sound. But for my money, early Funkadelic (Parliament’s sister band and predecessor) is even better. If hip-hop hasn’t yet thoroughly mined these dirty slabs of vinyl, it’s only because Funkadelic is a complex, murky stew of funk that isn’t easily sliced up into sample-ready jams. Where Parliament’s grooves are gleefully slick, Funkadelic is dark, drugged-out and capital-H for Hallelujah Heavy.
Eddie Hazel’s Hendrix-meets-Sun Ra cosmic guitar gets top billing in the 10 minute title cut; Clinton’s band of gypsies all but leaves the room as Hazel beams in a languorous solo that is equal parts alien transmission and lysergic lullaby. After that poignant statement of purpose, an acoustic blues riff introduces the sweet Philly soul of “Can You Get To That”, complete with basso profundo doo-wop testifying and soulful squeals. “Hit it and Quit It” really drops the bomb, proving that James Brown and Bitches’ Brew-era Miles Davis aren’t just compatible bedfellows but fervent lovers, “You and Your Folks, Me and My Folks” outlines the racism faced by interracial romance with a drum break as gritty as the cover art’s dirt, and the intense, menacing “Super Stupid” picks up precisely where Jimi’s “Who Knows” left off. On a later album, Funkadelic would ask “Who says a funk band can’t play rock?”, but Maggot Brain proves the question wasn’t only rhetorical, it was a laughing dismissal of non-believers: Funkadelic rocks like an asteroid belt.
- Jared O’Connor
Complex, murky funk