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<\/p>\nBy Peter Thomas Ricci<\/p>\n
It could have all been so simple: George Clinton \u2013 the outrageous, genius mastermind behind the legendary funk groups Parliament and Funkadelic \u2013 announces a farewell tour, one rich in nostalgia and deep with the funk; he tours major U.S. cities, playing a sweet, bright recreation of such legendary albums as \u201cMothership Connection,\u201d \u201cUncle Jam Wants You,\u201d and \u201cOne Nation Under a Groove.\u201d And his audiences \u2013 mostly Baby Boomers recalling Clinton\u2019s glory days \u2013 pack the venues and yearn for simpler, funkier times.<\/p>\n
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Oh my \u2013 what a grand joke such a vision is!<\/p>\n
While it is true that Clinton\u2019s May 31 concert at the Aragon was part of his farewell tour, nothing of my aforementioned hypothetical was realized. Hell no: what Clinton and his dynamic band (15 people total, by my highly unscientific count) offered was no nostalgia trip. Sure, we were indulged with such classics as \u201cMaggot Brain,\u201d \u201cFlashlight,\u201d and \u201cGive Up the Funk,\u201d and sure, the communal, P-Funk vibe was present in spades. But anyone among the multiracial, multigenerational crowd expecting any of Clinton\u2019s \u201870s antics \u2013 this is, after all, a guy who created such loony alter egos as \u201cDr. Funkenstein,\u201d and who sang such lyrics as \u201cAnd me? I\u2019m known at the Lollipop Man, alias, The Long-Haired Sucker\u201d \u2013 was instead treated to an astonishing modernization of Clinton\u2019s P-Funk sound, one that brought elements of hip hop and even thrash metal into his funky universe.<\/p>\n
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The sound at the Aragon was, simply, fire: a three-guitar attack blasting riffs and solos across the performing space; keyboards, trumpet, and saxophone adding deep, complementary colors; an airtight rhythm section that approached its instruments like weapons of destruction; and several dancers and singers of spectacular athleticism and dexterity, who alternated between rapping, choreography, and Clinton\u2019s patented spoken-word flourishes. Although there were quieter moments amidst Clinton\u2019s 100-minute set, the majority of the numbers burned with a fire and intensity that sometimes reached a frenzied fever pitch.<\/p>\n
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And of course, there was Clinton himself, who at 77 lacks none of the charisma and stage presence that made him a legend by his mid-30s. Entering the stage wearing a king\u2019s cloak and crown (both of which he quickly shed in the sweltering venue), Clinton attacked the material as an elder statesman, alternating between singing, audience hyping, and calling\/responding. And whenever Clinton tired \u2013 remember, the funk master is 77 \u2013 there was a chair stationed for him on stage, upon which he would sit and direct his musicians.<\/p>\n
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Clinton and his band did not take the stage until 10:45 (Miss Velvet and the Blue Wolf, Fishbone, and Galactica all opened), but it hardly mattered to the crowd \u2013 what P-Funk offered was so incendiary, so vital, so extraordinary, that it could have resurrected the dead, and it served as a sublime sendoff to one of American music\u2019s most vibrant, imaginative, wholly original figures.<\/p>\n
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For more on George Clinton, Parliament Funkadelic, P-Funk and the Farewell Tour, click here<\/a><\/p>\n