FUNKADELIC - AMERICA EATS ITS YOUNG @ 50

 

Marking half a century in the cosmos today is the fourth studio album from Funkadelic, America Eats Its Young, which was released on May 22nd, 1972. A sprawling double album with a notable identity crisis, it nonetheless set the stage for the emergence of the wider P-Funk universe in all its glory.

By the time this album began to gestate, the Funkadelic collective were undergoing many changes. Firstly, the core personnel were shifting and new players were coming into the fold, many of whom would prove to be critical contributors throughout its future. These included the likes of Bootsy Collins, Garry Shider & Bernie Worrell. Stylistically, they were leaving behind the acid fueled psychedelic rock influences of their early albums and moving into a heavily Afro-centric embrace of soul, R&B and gospel. Not that they were losing their weirdness, far from it, but they were much more focused on the blackness of their culture going forward.

Conceptually, Clinton was looking to create a pointedly political album with the heavy cost of the Vietnam war looming largest over its landscapes. Clinton also continued to showcase his obsession with the Process Church of the Final Judgement, a pseudo-religious cult offshoot of Scientology which was operating in the US and UK at the time. Many found that element objectionable, but I find it fascinating as it puts the P-Funk collective into a “strange bedfellows” kinship with what Genesis P-Orridge and Psychic TV would do a decade later based on the very same influences. It’s a connection that didn’t reveal itself to me until recent years, but which makes so much sense now in terms of how both communities functioned and presented themselves.

The 1970s was an era of some of the greatest decadence in the realm of popular music & culture that has ever been seen and the double album was, in this age, an exemplar of that indulgence. America Eats Its Young certainly doesn’t shy away from those excesses. As such, it’s a relentlessly mixed bag with soaring highs and baffling detours that left fans and critics befuddled and, more often than not, dissatisfied. Even with the benefit of hindsight, many still consider this a low point for the P-Funksters, but personally I find that assessment short sighted. There are simply too many touchstones in this set which were directly necessary for the futures of these artists. Much of what was laid out here was critical in relaunching the Parliament imprint, which had faltered in the early 1970s, but dominated in the latter half of the decade. The DNA which made them essential is totally starting to bubble up in songs like Loose Booty and the instrumental masterpiece, A Joyful Process.

One of the albums most emotional highlights comes from Everybody’s Going to Make It This Time. As a gospel revival, it remains one of the most moving songs in the entire P-Funk canon. It’s a song that embodies the deep sorrows of the past with an elevating optimism for the future. The tension between those poles rends the most heartfelt resonance from the listener. I can’t listen to it without getting choked up. It’s dazzling moments of perfection like this which make America Eats Its Young an essential piece of the P-Funk puzzle and so perfectly illustrate the overall feel of the album as a bridge between the band’s impressive past and its brilliant future.

THE MONKEES - HEADQUARTERS @ 55

 

It was 55 years ago today, on May 22nd 1967, that The Monkees released what could arguably be called their most significant album. It deserves this status more for what it represents creatively than commercially. If it were only about sales, More of the Monkess would rule hands down. But what is significant about Headquarters is that it represents a triumph of creative spirit over commercialization.

The Monkees never needed to be artistically valid. This artificial concoction of a couple of beatnik aspiring film producers could have been content with top 40 mediocrity, but something took hold within this creation that demanded to find expression. The driving force behind this has to be primarily credited to Michael Nesmith. It was his stubborn determination, against all council, that helped to overthrow the micromanaging totalitarianism of original musical director, Don Kirshner.

The ability to oust this corporate sponsored megalith of assembly line pop production was no mean feat. Millions of dollars in sales were at stake here. Corporations don't take lightly to people messing with the cash flow like this. Yet Mike's insistence (backed by the TV show's producers) became a fulcrum for the band to pry control of their product out of the hands of Kirshner and they dove into the opportunity of creating their own version of themselves with complete dedication.

Though, in some cases, their musicianship may have been limited compared to the seasoned professional session players who had created the music on their first two LPs, what they managed to craft was a thoroughly engaging and inspired example of psyche tinged garage rock that has stood the test of time and rivals the best that the era was able to offer. It's a solid album from Nesmith's rousing opener, You Told Me, to Micky's crown jewel of LSD inspired madness, Randy Scouse Git. In between you get gems like Tork's utopian For Pete's Sake.

The album was performed almost exclusively by the 4 band members along with first time producer Chip Douglas on bass so Peter could focus on keyboards, banjo and other instruments. They'd only ever do an album this self contained again some 30 years later in 1997 with Justus.

After Headquarters, they'd revert to engaging studio musicians again while still contributing themselves as they pleased, remaining in control of the production and selection of songs. It was a kind of hybrid approach combining the techniques from the first two albums with the creative freedom gained on their third. Headquarters hit the number one LP spot in the US only to be unseated by The Beatles Sgt. Pepper shortly thereafter. For all the struggle that lead to its creation, this album is the sound of triumph and camaraderie capturing a moment in time when it was possible to climb the mountain and enjoy the view, even if somewhat briefly