This is possibly of little interest to anyone, but the fact is that funk music provoked your reviewer to make his first tentative steps into the shark-infested minefield that is rock music criticism. Specifically, I objected to Armadillo Day at Northwestern University in Evanston, IL (the premier live music event of the year in those parts) being hijacked by a bunch of shaggy-haired stoner bores with names like Unkle Funkle playing fifteen-minute one-chord jams and being received with uncritical adulation by the equally-stoned undergraduate audience. And I wrote to the student rag to make my point in no uncertain terms. It elicited a lively response along the lines of ‘Butt out, Gramps’ (I was a post-doc) and ‘If he doesn’t like it here, why doesn’t he go home?’, which is usually a line of attack more appropriately directed towards Islamist terror-sympathisers.
So you’ll forgive me if I have certain prejudices against the genre. However, this rather brilliant little offering from Vibratonic, a refreshingly anonymous East Oxford collective (they have names like Natty Vader) is difficult, strike that, impossible, to resist.
Kicking off is the squelching, clav-tastic ‘Can’t Stop Loving You’, which dances along, propelled by a big-ass programmed beat, playfully taking on board all manner of eighties synths. If you can plug it in, and it goes ‘ping’ or ‘boing’ it’s in. Along the way, the producers have thrown in an infectious vocal refrain and cheeky-monkey muted trumpet, which is a delight. What’s apparent is that although it’s a complex brew, enough space has been left for every part to shine (I love the call and answer sections between the various synthesiser lines in the middle) and the whole is crunchily satisfying.
Equally good is the more obviously seventies-influenced ‘Wise Guy’, which doesn’t so much dance as strut (there may be a Neville Brothers influence in the rhythm section). Whether the guitars are live or just brilliantly sampled is a riddle I doubt I’ll ever solve (the group doesn’t play live as far as I can learn), but their combination with the fat synths and timeless Hammond organ is excellent. Vocals are handled by an unnamed female singer (unless Prince is slumming it in OX4 to spite his record company), with plenty of breathy energy and range- can we have an album of her?
‘Money’ takes us back to the intricate clav-work of ‘Can’t Stop’ and again kudos must go to the producer for keeping the balls in the air at once- it takes a sharp musical intelligence to maintain all those legions of keyboards bouncing off one another so merrily.
Closing the joint is ‘Here With Me’, an understated but playful mooch, which uses some gorgeous flute and a string sample which seems very, very familiar but which I can’t quite place (something from Marvin Gaye, perhaps? Throw me a bone here, guys!). Overall, the record is clean, clever and soulful, with no song outstaying its welcome (the cardinal virtue of funk, but seldom observed). The band is well named: despite my initial worries, they’ve proved themselves to be both vibrant and a tonic.