Parliament LANDMARK: Mothership Connection by: Ed Butler Tue:01-Apr-08 Label: Polygram Year: 1976 WB rating 95 out of 100

The funk. Technically, funk is any music with the emphasis on the downbeat (that is, the first beat of the measure). Ask George Clinton to provide a definition, however, and another answer altogether will be forthcoming. As the main man for the two funk powerhouses, Parliament and Funkadelic, he was pivotal in establishing the funk as so much more; as a way of life, a belief system, a state of mind, a movement.

Beginning as barber shop quartet The Parliaments in the early ‘60s, the band that would eventually become the double-headed, multifaceted Parliament-Funkadelic juggernaut evolved across almost every conceivable musical genre, from gospel to pop, soul and rock, absorbing, seemingly by osmosis, every single one along the way, until the creation of Mothership Connection in 1976. Where Funkadelic were the nappy-wearing, anything-goes, just make it funky, party pioneers, Parliament were the smooth ones. The disciplined ones. Granted, many of the musicians were the same and granted, bass deity Bootsy Collins still got around in costumes that depopulated entire avian species, Parliament’s message of funk was as much about making great music as providing the soundtrack to epic parties.

Fusing together blues, jazz and rock, dressing it in a cape and sunglasses and soaking it in acid, Clinton and his cohorts put in place a clear picture of what funk was. The opening two tracks, 'P-Funk (Who Wants to Get Funked Up?)' and 'Mothership Connection', introduced two new characters on this starship of funk (there was A LOT of acid), including Starchild, who was to appear routinely across future Parliament records, guiding the listener through seven tracks of party-inducing, drug fuelled insanity.

“Sir Lollipop man. Chocolate coated, freaky and habit-forming” croons Collins over his slinky, meandering bassline intro to ‘P-Funk’, and, coupled with the cover shot of Clinton, spread-eagle, clad in silver thigh-high boots leaping out of a flying saucer, it was the best indication of the music contained thereafter. But, however psychedelic and hallucinatory it may have been, it remains, to this day, a collection of immaculate R&B, arranged by Clinton, Collins, trombonist Fred Wesley and keyboardist Bernie Worrel.

After the introductory, nonsensical, soliloquy opening ‘P-Funk’, a conceit that has been shamelessly aped ad infinitum by hip hop poseurs ever since, the horns step up a notch, the synths kick in, harmonies explode and Collins’ trademark squelching bass drive a seamless blend of rhythm and melody. ‘Unfunky UFO’ (“Give us the funk, you punk!”) is possibly the most danceable funk number ever put to vinyl, while ‘Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof Off the Sucker)’ was Parliament’s biggest ever hit on the Billboard charts.

But what grabs the attention of anyone born 1975-1985 is the predominance of familiarity. To listen to Mothership Connection is to hear almost every funk sample trotted out by the burgeoning gangster-rap scene in the early ‘90s. Everyone from Snoop Dogg to Ice Cube to Dr Dre to Tupac and every single lazy MC from 1988 to today has lifted something from this album, be it the “Swing down, sweet chariot/Stop, and let me ride” off the titular track, to the constant top end keys and synths, to the entirety of ‘Give Up the Funk’.

But it doesn’t end there. Mothership Connection has been cited by bands as diverse as The Red Hot Chili Peppers and Primus as crucial in their early development. Certainly Collins’ bass stylings are clearly audible in the slap-happy antics of Flea and Les Claypool, while the positively hyperactive rhythm section of ‘Give Up the Funk’ is classic Chili Peppers.

In 1976, Parliament redefined party music, creating a new genre, a new sound. Well, perhaps not creating, but defining. Funk now had a name, and an image. In 1976, there was no middle ground between rock, which tended towards overblown pretensions of a Pink Floyd-esque scale, and disco, always rambunctious, but lacking in depth and vision (until the appearance of Chic in the late 70s). Funk filled the void perfectly, and never before or since has one record so amazingly distilled an entire musical movement, while still thumping out record-scratching dancefloor magic of unparalleled fun at the same time.

Modern lists of landmark albums are traditionally dominated by bands and records renowned for being 'deep' and 'intense' and 'artistic', so for 'Mothership Connection' maintain its place at the apogee of musical accomplishment speaks volumes for its power, influence, and sheer, hip-shaking brilliance. Clinton and his 50-odd member band of merry men may have recorded funkier albums (1974’s Standing on the Verge of Getting It On) – only just – but nothing came close to Mothership Connection for musical innovation or sheer, genre-defining (and defying) brilliance.

Who gots the funk?