Dear human beings:
GOOD GOD. UNGH!
The new album is here and it is a motherfucking monster. Excuse my French.
A bit of Curtis Mayfield in the mix. Jazz. Weirdness. Soul. A bit of monster heavy funk. The guy’s made progress.
Go and buy it. Because Jesse needs to get paid.
Bad haircut. Heavy funk.
I’m going to have to rip the album. Props to whoever posted this to YouTube.
Still here.
Ah, Christmast. Mizzletoe an’ wine, etc. and so forth. Christmast time.
Two things.
Do you like Minneapolis funk?
You do? Splendid.
Then download this:
http://theheaviestfunkintheworld.wordpress.com/2008/02/22/cinema-wrong-house/
or this:
http://theheaviestfunkintheworld.wordpress.com/2008/02/22/32-phreeze-phreeze/
What else?
Oh yes. KEITH CROUCH LEFT A COMMENT!
Yes, he did! He really did! He has the best snare drums!
Happy Christmast!
There was something wrong with these people.
Conjure. Mumbo jumbo. Hoodoo. Lashings of sexual intercourse.
Upfront. The albums featuring these tunes are (sometimes) available. You are supposed to buy them, not download them, because they are made by a genius, and the musicians deserve to be paid.
I’m posting these to induce you to go and buy all the Conjure and Kip Hanrahan albums available with the money you earned in your job, or with your drug deals and/ or gaggle of whores or stole from your parents.
Kip Hanrahan is one of the most important artists working in any medium today. His genre happens to be music.
Allen Touissaint, Olu Dara, David Murray, Leo Nocentelli, Eddie Harris, Lester Bowie, Michael Cain, Don Pullen, Robbie Ameen, Steve Swallow and Bobby Womack are on some of these tunes. Ritchie Flores, Fernando Saunders, Milton Cardona too. The Conjure albums are texts for the poet Ishmael Reed. The Kip Hanrahan albums are for describing thoughts, desires and fears you didn’t think anyone else ever had, and most of them are to do with sexual intercourse. This music is sui generis, but these happen to stink like an army of baboons on a humid day in a shut-down lard plant. All are produced (or, rather, directed) by Kip Hanrahan.
This is guitar-led bluesy r’n'b styled funk music. I think you’ll like it. If you like a blog called theheaviestfunkintheworld it’s pretty sure you’ll dig it.
…that people are still downloading stuff. Quite a lot of people.
I’ve been busy.
I’m going to upload some more RIDICULOUSLY HEAVY FUNK MUSIC.
Tommorw. Also spelled ‘tomorrow’.
“THANKS FOR SPREADING OUR GROOVENALITY ONLINE!
WISHING U RESPECT PEACE LOVE HAPPINESS BLESSINGS UNITY AND FUNKY FUNKINESS!
oNe
THE NATION FUNKTASIA”
Oh yeah. Now I all need are Edwin Birdsong, Bennie…
Viva heavy funk music with big snare drums! Viva!
Check the comments below.
The rules are I don’t post anything you can buy or download from a Real Shop. And this is as deleted as a mofo.
‘Ghetto Heaven’ this ain’t. When I first heard this I was expecting ‘Ghetto Heaven’ or ‘Twisted’ and instead got heavy metal gospel with a horn section.
OK, that’s not accurate. But as difficult to categorise as ‘Moon in Scorpio’ is, the following remarks are perfectly true:
Also. This is often political, occasionally in a rather ungenerous fashion. Sometimes the truth’s just uncomfortable and sometimes it’s OK to defend your urge to the critical, especially when the argument’s put with the kind of articulacy and force on display here. Whatever: the honesty and the anger are honest, and expressed absolutely deliberately, and for as long as you’re listening to ‘Never Be’ and ‘Education of Jamie’, for example, you’re drawing diagrams of molotov cocktails. The prospect of revolution’s exciting. This was 1989/1990, and Bush Sr. was in charge. Yes. He was a shit head.
Check ‘Chackra Love’ and ‘Quiet Desperation’. Genius.
Link went dead. Re-upped by request.
No. Not that Bomb Squad.
A bunch of people from… America-land, a.k.a ‘Some far off cosmos’, led by one Lorenzo Heard. The crew of a spacecraft travelling intergalactic-wise with a payload of impossible music (sound familiar?) disembark in Howard Beach, NY, about the time of the race murders. It’s 1988. They’re in the wrong ‘hood. Earth’s not ready for these kind of aliens.
Beam me up. The people of earth are kind of… nuts.
“To sleep, perchance to dream of a day when funk is no longer considered an acquired taste” go the notes on the 12″. I ripped this from the vinyl about six years ago and it’s on AAC at 192, but it uses old school Star Trek samples as percussion sounds so you are not allowed to have a problem.
Slurp. Link in the comments.
One bass guitar (Kevin Bruce Harris) and one voice (DK Dyson.)
This went on my ‘Drugs Are Bad!’ playlist, along with ‘Crack Killed Applejack’ and ‘Rocks’ (see below.)
Kevin was an M-BASE acolyte, playing bass on a host of Steve Coleman and Five Elements albums. Played with Cassandra Wilson, too, before she became a diva. When she had some funk.
This is weird on the sly. Blues changes, one man slapping, DK Dyson sounding beautiful, poetic lyrics. Left field.
If you haven’t heard DK Dyson, do the google. If you haven’t heard Steve Coleman… er… go here
He’s got his entire back catalogue up for free download. ‘Sine Die’ is my favourite. Go. Go crazy. Download like a crazy mofo.
I was Paul Simon in my dream
Woke up
I was only Bruce Springsteen
My lips were gone, my weenie shrunk
I tried to dance, but I moved like a drunk
Am I jealous?
Oh no no!
Am I infatuated?
Am I a negro?
No, no, no!
I’m doing business in monkeytime.
I looked in my closet at all of my clothes
I thought I saw a shirt with pinstripes
(Oh no, no, no!)
Oh my God, where goes my nose?
And my radio playing some stereotypes
Am I yellow? I don’t know
Oh my sah key lah ke lay
What a fellow, I can grow
Where is my Garfunkel?
I tape the black man, so let me be
South Africa been so good to me
I smile with you on the BTV
But don’t you ever touch my Grammy
Hey!
Mah seh kah yay lie key oh!
What I fellow, I can’t even grow
I got you down but you won’t cry uncle
We don’t need no more Garfunkel
Kick me down, I won’t cry uncle
‘Cos we don’t need no more Garfunkel
You kick me down, I won’t cry uncle
‘Cos we don’t need no more Garfunkel
A hilarious, stirring Labi Siffre-esque Cry Freedom!-style peroration from 1989 about… oh, Paul Simon, turning into Bruce Springsteen… but not really. Serious without being serious. A pastiche to rip Paul Simon a new one. And OK, you can’t dance to this, but it’s music from a true maverick. Marc Anthony Thompson went on to be Chocolate Genius. His first two albums are pretty out there.
Link in the comments.
Leave a comment . . . I’m deciding whether or not the world needs me to rip loads of ridiculously heavy funk music.
This is not an audiophile blog. It has heavy funk in it.
These files have to be downloaded from somewhere and they can’t be too big but they have to sound OK, maybe through a large system. Even though I need a new stylus. Also you might want to convert them to AAC or MP3 to save room. I’m not using FLAC, say, because FLAC is a pain in the arse. If you’re DJing you will use Serato and your iTunes library. If you have an iPod you will use AAC, MP3 or Apple Lossless. These aren’t audiophile rips. Everyone has iTunes. Converting FLAC files is a waste of time. So say all of us.
Also, you will see that the cover images are not scans, but have been taken with my camera phone, and some are actually very shit. This is because this is not an audiophile’s blog, etc.
Now I just hope I don’t get bored with this blog before I’ve trawled my collection.
