Archive for September, 2010


In Celebration of Funky Melancholia

A few gems discovered via deep youtube digging sessions which ooze sweet melancholy, whilst maintaining a high standard of funk. There are hundreds more that could be added to this list but these are the ones that spring to mind.

Convextion – Spice Tea [Down Low Music]

Der Zyklus – Formenverwandler [International Deejay Gigolo]

Obatala Sango Ochun – The Beginning (Afrikan Latino Mix) [Sunshine Music LTD]

Smith & Hall – Theme [Third Ear Recordings]

Juju & Jordash – Time Slip [Real Soon]

It begs the question: Just what is it about certain tunes that gives them that element of melancholy? The feeling of an emotional distance from everything without the pomposity of being so obvious; the withdrawing from overt depression which possesses a glimmer of pleasantry?


President Blowfly and the girls who are too wide to ride

Before the days of Obama, certain folk had their own ideals of a black president who would one day run the nation and do the black community proud; even if his ethics were a tad¬†unorthodox. Twisted imagery is plastered throughout this song, which runs at an epic 16 minutes, and the added bonus of his trademark Mexican wrestler/gimp outfit certainly gives George Clinton a run for his money. Dirty lyrics are the norm in much music these days, but back in the day this kind of filth wouldn’t even be considered for release on any label. Thus, Blowfly released his music under his own label, Weird World. The unusual name and outfit also protected the real man behind the mask, Clarence Reid, from his long running career as a Songwriter for many respected artists such as Bettie Wright and KC & The Sunshine Band.

Was Clarence Reid happy with his daytime job as a respectful songwriter? Debatable, but what seems disturbing is the deep compulsion Reid had to write songs with such crude¬†content when it could seriously damage his reputation. This is clear proof that when someone has such a burning obsession within that continually rises to the surface until it pushes you to the brink, there’s only one option: create a supervillian alter ego. Or in this case, dress up like a gimp and rap about the dirtiest shit that comes into your head.

%d bloggers like this: