Art has an incredible power to bring back a feeling, a ghost, a forgotten fragment you didn’t consciously know you had in your memory.
At this moment we were travelling on a couch full of purple & poker-dot covered girls from Liverpool to Manchester for a concert by Prince. This post, despite all appearances, is not about Prince.
On the stereo was George Clinton – either Parliament or Funkadelic, but thats not the important part either.
The discussion was about how, like, amazing the previous song had been but how, like, terrible the current one playing was…. and then how great the current part of the song playing was, but how shitty the previous bit had been.
It was probably my first exposure to the world of Mr.Clinton, and i was in love – i wanted to absorb every polarising part of his music into my being.
It’s all subjective of course, as one girls Poison is another Van Halen, but i loved the way he effortlessly divided opinions and confounded expectations in the space of a drum break. And thats what this may be about.
This is not the one by Autre Ne Veut bares little or no resemblance to the mighty Parliament or Funkadelic, but for a cursory mistuned schoolyard chant or a psychedelic soul refrain. It is an unnerving odd moment of what might be described as joyfully insane bitterness, which we wish lasted longer. It’s also a track with polarising differences, which individually could easily not be your cup of tea, but together forms something magical.
We dare you to try playing it just once.