so i need to hear all your goodies and melt my brain even if i don't get the whole album altho i should, sez yazan. An unfulfillable need here at emusic where we pay by the track no matter how short... but the long tracks cannot be purchased at all without i buy the hole ting. farkin bastiges.
I had a tape of this show back in the 90's and was blown away by it. Of course, I lost the tape. But this album is just RETARDED! The story behind it, too. New drummer sitting in. Just retarded. "Good Old Music" is, personally, the dopest live track I've ever heard. I know, bold statement. But putting yourself there on 9/12/71. "The Loser's Seat" is amazing too. The whole damn thang is just Divine. BUY IT!
The 15 minute version of "All Your Goodies Are Gone" is brain melting. One of the most emotional things I have ever heard in my life. Even if you don't get the whole record (which you should, because it's great), you need to hear this track.
It used to be easier to pretend that an album was its own perfectly self-contained artifact. The great records certainly feel that way. But albums are more permeable than solid, their motivations, executions and inspirations informed by, and often stolen from, their peers and forbearers. It all sounds awfully formal, but it's not. It's the very nature of music — of art, even. The Six Degrees features examine the relationships between classic records and five… more »
It used to be easier to pretend that an album was its own perfectly self-contained artifact. The great records certainly feel that way. But albums are more permeable than solid, their motivations, executions and inspirations informed by, and often stolen from, their peers and forbearers. It all sounds awfully formal, but it's not. It's the very nature of music — of art, even. The Six Degrees features examine the relationships between classic records and five… more »
It used to be easier to pretend that an album was its own perfectly self-contained artifact. The great records certainly feel that way. But albums are more permeable than solid, their motivations, executions and inspirations informed by, and often stolen from, their peers and forbearers. It all sounds awfully formal, but it's not. It's the very nature of music — of art, even. The Six Degrees features examine the relationships between classic records and five… more »
It used to be easier to pretend that an album was its own perfectly self-contained artifact. The great records certainly feel that way. But albums are more permeable than solid, their motivations, executions and inspirations informed by, and often stolen from, their peers and forbearers. It all sounds awfully formal, but it's not. It's the very nature of music — of art, even. The Six Degrees features examine the relationships between classic records and five… more »
It used to be easier to pretend that an album was its own perfectly self-contained artifact. The great records certainly feel that way. But albums are more permeable than solid, their motivations, executions and inspirations informed by, and often stolen from, their peers and forbearers. It all sounds awfully formal, but it's not. It's the very nature of music — of art, even. The Six Degrees features examine the relationships between classic records and five… more »
Not released until 1996, this was an unusual gig for the band, which was breaking in a new rhythm section (this may have been this lineup’s first show) without much or any rehearsal. You can’t tell from this 77-minute disc, which offers a typically amorphous, free-floating set of black rock — which is to say, judged by most standards, it’s not typical music at all. Seguing from spaced-out jams to occasional numbers with vocals by George Clinton, and throwing in imaginative improvisations by guitarist Eddie Hazel and keyboardist Bernie Worrell, it sounds something like a combination of Jimi Hendrix, James Brown, and Sun Ra. The 14-minute “Maggot Brain” verges on prog rock/psychedelia (in the good sense), with its almost mystical guitar lines; earthier pleasures are offered with cuts like “I Call My Baby Pussycat” (two versions). The fidelity is pretty good, though the vocals lack the presence of the instruments. Funkadelic are still shown to their best advantage on their studio recordings of the era, but this is certainly a fascinating find for fans, augmented by detailed liner notes about the gig by Rob Bowman. – Richie Unterberger