Okay, now that I have slept, and had a lot of liquid to drink, here’s a update on last nights concert.
If in my entire life I ever manage to rock half as much as George Clinton still rocks at age 67, I will be a happy man. Truly, he and the Parliament Funkadelic did indeed, if I may use the vernacular, tear the roof off the sucker. P-Funk played for a while before George came in – as you can imagine, they’re all both (a) very very very talented musicians, and (b) the coolest people within a 1000 mile radius, no exceptions. The keyboard player looked like Cool and Funk were the only two things holding him together and keeping him alive.
George opened hilariously with a cover of a Lil’ Jon song (“To the window! To the walls! ‘Till the sweat drop down my balls! Ahhh-Skeet Skeet Skeet Skeet Skeet!”) which I am only familiar with thanks to illicit downloadings of the Dave Chapelle show, but at least because of that I knew the words and could sing along.
From that point on it was pure, unending (literally – gaps between songs are for lesser men .. real funk soldiers just flow into the next one) funkiness.
On the way there, Chris was like “Perhaps they won’t play ‘Flashlight’?” … in fact they played a 30 minute version of flashlight, with segues into a couple of other songs in the middle of it, then back to Flashlight again.
I did think for a while that they weren’t going to play ‘Atomic Dog’, but they were just saving it for the Encore.
Chris’ GF Helen, amongst others, got to get up on the stage and dance with Sir Nose. I’m pretty sure Sir Nose works out. You could grate cheese on his six-pack. Yeah, I think he might work out.
All in all, it ROCKED.
Surprisingly few people there – the St James is not that big a venue and it wasn’t even full up. I mean, come on, it’s George fucking Clinton and the P-Funk. Auckland and Hamilton have a BIG hip-hop community, I would have expected them to ALL show up and see the guy name-checked (and sampled) by every major rapper, ever. But no, it would seem not. I hope they made enough to come back here again.
And on the way back home, we saw a guy that made me point him out to Chris and Helen, and say “See that guy? He is Auckland.” He was a slim, toned guy wearing orange converse shoes, white pants, a yellow satin shirt (top button undone), yellow-lensed aviator glasses, and he had one of those fauxhawk haircuts. He was also armed with the smallest cellphone EVER.
You may argue, but all he needed was a carry-cup of latte, and you could put him on a billboard down on State Highway 1 with a sign that reads “Welcome to Auckland, yeah?” and it’d be perfect.