Parliament Funkentelechy vs The Placebo Syndrome

Rip It Up, Issue 11, 1 May 1978, Page 15

Parliament Funkentelechy vs The Placebo Syndrome

Casablanca Strange things tend to happen when you play Parliament albums in the privacy of your own home.

First, the dust that has inevitably formed on your Led Zeppelin records starts to jump. Small objects start to rattle and vibrate, in time, of course. As your temperature starts to rise, you feel your shoulders starting to drop and your arms push themselves away from your body, anthropoid-style. Your neck sinks

down into your body and your eyebrows start to wiggle and revolve rapidly in opposite directions around your face. By now, the lower half of your body is moving totally independent of the upper half; hips, knees, ankles and boomps-a-daisy shifting in directions you didn't know they could, and guaranteed to slip a disc

under normal conditions. But these are far from normal conditions, Starchild, as you fall a helpless victim to the irresistable supergroovalistic prosifunkstacation of George Clinton, Booisy Collins and their retinue of faithful funketeers. Parliament make body music without parallel. It not only moves, it can remove. It spins all around you in an insidious fashion, urging you on to greater physical feats, and you just don’t ever want it to stop. Here, for your delight, brothers and sisters, six new tracks from one of the only three bands which know the true meaning of the word "funk’’ (the other two being Funkadelic and Bootsy’s Rubber Band, of course). Every track is chocolate-covered, freaky and habit-forming. If you ain’t yet ridden on the Mothership, it's high time you took the trip. It makes you smile, keeps you fit, and probably cures warts as well. Dig, baby, Dr Funkenstein is gonna getcha, stick a bolt through your neck and turn you into funk-crazed little clone. Is there funk after death? Is Seven Up? You too can be a walking lobotomy. Get off your ass and jam. Saturday Night What? Duncan Campbell

A Street Called Straight Roy Buchanan Poly dor

The success of Buchanan’s collaboration with Stanley Clarke, Loading Zone, has resulted in the belated release (in New Zealand) of this two year old album. As with other Roy Buchanan efforts versatility is the keynote. The sounds range from the blues through gospel and country sounds a la Tony Joe White to a personalised version of Jimi Hendrix' ‘lf Six was Nine” and the pyrotechnics of the foray with studio electronics, "Guitar Cadenza.” Buchanan is a guitarist of superlative technique, often blindingly beautiful, as in the haunting "The Messiah Will Come Again.” But his voice, while pleasant and down homey, is limited, and lacks the easy charm of a Tony Joe White. Consequently, interest must centre on his extraordinary guitar playing (Side Two is almost entirely instrumental), rather than the too-alike countrified vocals. Ken Williams