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Doctor Funkenstein explains it all

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Once upon a time, there was a barbershop in a Black enclave in the wilds of deepest, darkest New Jersey, circa the 1950s. Like similar establishments, it was a hub of the cultural and social life of the neighborhood, and dispensed chemically straightened “processed” hair, and other, more conservative styles to a clientele of picturesque characters who often earned a living skirting the propriety of the legal system.

One of these barbers was unique because he channeled his lucrative earnings into his passion for music. His name was George Clinton.

Like most Black folk of a certain generation, his roots were in the Deep South. Rumored to have been born in a North Carolina outhouse, his real coming of age occurred when his family moved north. New Jersey had a thriving musical environment in its own right, and young George was an acquaintance or was aware of such neighborhood luminaries as vocalists Patti Labelle and Dionne Warwick, saxophonist Wayne Shorter, and organist Larry Young.

He eventually formed a Doo-Wop group called the Parliaments, which expanded into an instrumental group, and it in turn spawned a separate band steeped in the mind-altering, drug influenced psychedelic rock associated with the counterculture popularized in the late 1960s. This musical counterpoint was appropriately named “Funkadelic.”

Operated as P-Funk, Parliament was considered more rhythm and blues oriented, while Funkadelic was a guitar-driven cooperative slanted towards it’s rock roots. But the separation between the two was actually indistinct.

The quality of their musicianship was consistently high, but the collective made its mark with an extravagant stage show, borrowed from the outlandish rock acts of the times. Clinton naturally put his own spin on things, with guitarist Garry Shider performing in a diaper, and the inclusion of a spacecraft called “The Mothership,” a prop which landed on stage to distribute funk to eager fans.

After decades of showmanship and hi-jinks, Clinton has written a tell-all in tandem with author Ben Greenman, titled “Brothas Be, Yo Like George, Ain’t That Funkin’ Kinda Hard on You?: A Memoir” ($27 from Atria Books). For those with a taste for scandal, it offers antidotes about drug sessions with legends Sly Stone and David Ruffin, and the revelation of how Clinton’s own indulgence left him easy prey for agents and lawyers to siphon off the fruits of his funkdom.

The book demonstrates that there was a method to the madness behind all the silliness Clinton and his cohorts projected on vinyl and the stage. Each musical transition and every album concept was a calculated exercise, some of them more successful than others, but all of them entertaining and interesting.

P-Funk was nothing if not a democratic consortium, meaning that ideas and input were accepted from everyone. Clinton portrays himself as a benevolent ringleader—not the most gifted singer or arranger—but someone with the grand vision to see “the big picture.” This vision did not extend to business acumen, unfortunately.

Clinton was unique because he derived much of his influences from interactions with the hangers-on and groupies that were then a staple of the musical industry. Thus, when one particularly sarcastic object of his desire stymied his verbal seduction with the observation that Clinton only wanted some “nappy dugout,” the carnal reference found its way into the title of a track on the seminal album “Cosmic Slop.”

Clinton can look back on a heritage that has shaped much of today’s popular music, ranging from the obvious connection to Hip Hop, R&B, and Soul, but also Pop, New Wave, and other, eclectic stylings. Unlike many of his contemporaries, the ravages of narcotics abuse have not appeared to permanently damage him, and he spends his days working on projects with up and comers like Kendrick Lamar, and attempts to recover the lost royalties of a misspent youth.

Let us hope he is successful. He deserves it.

“Brothas Be, Yo Like George, Ain’t That Funkin’ Kinda Hard on You?: A Memoir,” is available at Eso Won Books.

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