Word: funke
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...Songwriting still counts for a lot, and "Title TK" is a good album even though it's the worst Breeders album. There are worse revivals afoot, one of the most unfortunate being that of Gary Wilson, who recorded an album of eccentric funk tunes in his parents' basement in the '70s called "You Think You Really Know Me" that attracted a cult following. Wilson is now back on stage doing an imitation of his old self. At his sold-out show in Manhattan last week, Wilson sang the songs from that record with a well-oiled back-up band, dropped...
...very familiar Harvard-looking crowd of college kids, including many friends and family of the band members assembled, on the second floor of the House of Blues. They ordered vodka tonics at the bar, alongside the musicians ordering bottled water. D.O.F.C., an eight-piece band specializing in soul and funk, were the first group to go on, comprising guitars, drums, harmonica, trumpet and saxophone. The band played classics such as “Jungle Boogie,” as well as a few original songs. The strongest elements of their performance were the two very gifted lead singers, Patrick Parks...
...into a chaotic, screaming mess that had absolutely nothing to with the previous thematic statement. “Ain’t Nothin’ But the Blues,” a groove that is anything but a blues, had Garrett bizarrely soloing in frenzied pentatonic scales over mellow funk...
...hard to reconcile his performace with the concert’s opening. His cadenza was particularly stunning, as he deftly blended themes from all three tunes. To round out the set, the full quartet returned and rolled into “Happy People,” a funk-laced ditty featuring a catchy bridge and an irresistible groove. As if making up for his earlier alienation, Garrett welcomed his audience back to his music by exhorting them to sing along. This was what jazz is supposed to be about—interplay with the audience, communication between band members...
...hop’s Autechre, sounding far-out on first listen but making perfect sense on the fifth (appropriately, they’re also on the UK’s experimental Warp label). As former slam poets, emcees Priest, Beans and M. Sayyid rhyme multisyllables like androids possessed by funk, their unfathomable words sounding vaguely familiar at times—like lyrics about hip hop lyrics. They attack the mic with a coordinated fervor not seen since early Wu-Tang or Souls of Mischief, or even the Beastie Boys...