George Clinton and his various merry bands have funked there way through the last few decades and at the last count were still funkin' their way to eternity. The source of all this funkiness is the eight albums that they cut for Westbound Records through the 70s. Adventurous, absurd, at times hysterical, and always outrageous, the outlandish image is in danger of masking the sheer brilliance of the material and the playing. This is undoubtedly black music, but not as anyone had ever heard it before either lyrically or musically. Whatever it took to explain the funk: there were cosmic guitar solos, spectacular vocal pyrotechnics, sound collages and always those sly observations of the other world the one the Funkadelics sure did not occupy.
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