I used to play in a blues band. We were pretty good:
Tag Archive for 'funk'
New Orleans funk machine, Galactic, is, without question, one of my favorite groups ever. Someone recommended “Coolin’ Off” to me back in 1998 and it changed my life. I’ve seen them live at least ten times since and have enjoyed the subtle changes the band has taken on over the years in perfecting their sound. Last night I discovered that I am Galactic’s biggest fan. I’m not joking. I know I am their biggest fan because, despite my incredible hatred of the typical jam band audience member, I still go to just about every show that comes near me. Seriously, those jam band kids make me miserable.
I’ll come back to that, though.
In case you have never heard them, Galactic is not one of those instrumental bands that blow you out of the water with a lot of chops or shredding. They don’t have a cool image or kitschy gimick or political agenda, either. They’re just dudes playing hard-driving funk and having a good time. No matter what turns their music makes, the play of the right stuff the right time and, you may or may not agree that almost NO BAND does that anymore.
Still, it takes all I got to deal with all of the puka shell necklace wearing meatheads in ballcaps, trustfund hippies with hemp bracelets and tie dye shirts noodle-dancing awkwardly out of time and with false confidence. Were it not for the band kicking so much ass to keep me in a good mood, I am sure I would have throttled the necks of every last dirt-eating, fratboy ganja troll in there. Fortunately, VIP passes allowed me access to the upper level of the Norva, and therefor gave me a way of escaping these dumbasses as well as achieving a better vantage point of Bobby Mack’s 1963 Precision Bass and Stanton Moore’s 28 inch bass drum setup (he got rid of the old marching drum and now has a custom sparkle Gretsch… bad ass).
They started off the show with a song they called “FEMA” which apparently summarizes the group’s feelings about the Katrina Disaster, as it was the most aggressive and diabolically ferocious beginning for a Galactic show I have ever heard. They also performed an encore which featured a haunting rendition of Zeppelin’s “When The Levee Breaks” (sharing the vocal melody between Richard Vogel on B3 and Ben Ellman on harmonica). It gave me chills.
On Monday, I interviewed for the MIS workstudy position on campus and was given the job. The manager and I ended up talking about music for about an hour (and computers for a few minutes at the beginning). So, I start on Friday. I decided against that YWCA position for two main reasons: One, well, they never called me back (ha ha). Two, I had a bad feeling about where the situation was going and didn’t think I was really going to get anything out of it. I am a firm believer in trusting your instincts, and my gut was telling me that situation was going to be a total disaster. However, I thought about it so much that I came to the conclusion that the only real reason I was interested in taking the position was that I liked the idea of working for a non-profit and helping those less fortunate in the community (like setting up networks for safehouses). I think I would like to volunteer for something like that after I get a little more practical experience. Maybe even with the YWCA, I could probably assemble so friends and knock something like that out in a few days.
I have a headache. A really bad headache.
Yesterday was not only my birthday, but it was the date of one of the best live shows I’ve seen in years.
At the Jewish Mother in Virginia Beach, The Headhunters funked their asses off. Before you ask, no, Herbie Hancock was not there– this was not the original lineup, only Mike Clark and Bill Summers were the only original Headhunters present. Normally, I would probably not step foot near a band claiming to be The Headhunters if Paul Jackson was not present. Instead, I happily dropped the 20 dollars down to see the man who had replaced Paul Jackson for this tour and on their latest album, who is one of my all time heroes; George Porter Jr. from The Meters. Sick!
George was incredible, way busier and a much stronger soloist than many who are only familiar with his Meters catalog might expect. George also led the group as a vocalist on a few tunes, including the Meters classic “Hey Pocky-A Way.” Hearing George’s approach to “Chameleon” was worth double the admission.
Mike Clark is a legend. Mike has one of the most recognizable drum styles ever. I had never seen him play in person, but I felt like I was listening to the records. He’s effortless and he gets this huge sound. Amazing. The same goes for Bill Summers; effortless, candid, and brilliant. I was shocked to discover how many of the sounds on the 70’s Headhunters’ records that I thought were concoctions of Herbie’s keyboards were in fact bizarre timbres created by non-descript percussion instruments in Bill Summer’s capable hands. His facility on the congas is jaw dropping. There are so many jackass wanna-be conga players in the jam band circle, and I’ve seen my share in Virginia Beach– usually backing up mediocre singer songwriters. I urge everyone who normally would walk out of a club as soon as they saw congas, to go and see more bands with real conga players. It’s a different experience all together.
Anyway, I had an awesome birthday. Kim and I drank coffee, watched some legendary performers, and talked smack about this stupid girl who seemed to be having convulsions while tirelessly dancing like a chicken on acid.
I can’t believe I forgot my camera.
