Mothership Connection (1975) - Parliament

There is no one more synonymous with the concept of funk than George Clinton, the musical mastermind behind countless classic records, funk staples and the veritable musical empire that is Parliament-Funkadelic, an umbrella group of bands and musicians as well as a musical style unto itself. The man lives and breathes funk in a way that few others can even dream of. He was a contemporary of James Brown, Sly Stone and countless others, and an inspiration to later geniuses like Prince, Dr. Dre and Janelle Monae but none of them embodied the concept of funk to the extent he did. The man laid down two to three albums a year throughout the seventies. With a release schedule like the one he had, it would be unthinkable to actually craft a truly classic, landmark album. While most of his work is a mix of utterly brilliant funk throw downs mixed in with some supremely listenable and well-performed filler tracks, Mothership Connection (1975) is a different story. In 1975, a year when he released three separate albums, he ended up laying down what could be considered the definitive funk album of all time, the explosively influential and irresistibly groovy Mothership Connection.

While P-Funk was a relatively flexible collective, Clinton was actually the leader of two unique bands, Parliament and Funkadelic, with the former being a more dance-oriented outfit that focused on soul and straight funk influences while the latter being a more fusion oriented outfit that pumped out guitar oriented funk-rock with a more psychedelic and acidic edge. While Clinton made sure the group’s had their own distinct identities, they weren’t quite separate groups all together because Clinton used a majority of the same musicians for both projects. This album was Parliament’s fourth album, and is an inflection point in Clinton’s career. Before 1975, Funkadelic’s acid rock was Clinton’s main interest, with Parliament being more of a glorified side project, but with this album the balance shifted. After this monster record, Parliament became Clinton’s more heavily prioritized group for the rest of the decade, with Funkadelic mainly falling by the wayside until their 1978 comeback album One Nation Under a Groove. Here, for the first time, Parliament comes into their own distinct sound as opposed to just being a poppier extension of Funkadelic. The sonic shift is evident throughout the album, namely due to the departure of the late Eddie Hazel, the key psychedelic guitar wizard that did so much pioneering work with early Funkadelic, which had Clinton push guitars to the background for the first time and pioneer a more bass and horn heavy sound. Clinton also brings his new additions to the fore with Bootsy Collins’ throbbing, funk bass lines, Bernie Worrell’s swirling synth keyboards and the unbeatable horn section of Fred Wesley and Maceo Parker, fresh off of their stint in the James Brown band, all giving the songs their own unique heft and sonic identity. The project is a lighter, funkier flavor than anything Clinton had ever done before, leaving psychedelia behind for the dance floor and pushing funk into a new era.

The band’s new, breezier sound is evident from the opening notes of the deliriously fun “P-Funk (Wants to Get Funked Up)”, an introduction to Parliament both sonically and lyrically. The way Clinton’s hysterical spoken word passages intertwining with punchy horn fills from Wesley and Maceo, Bootsy’s gurgling bass throb and Worrell’s squelchy synths and wonky keyboard hooks makes for a thrillingly complex and effortlessly groovy song. The song is a spaced out, phaser drenched tapestry of sonic weirdness, but it all coalesces into something that is impossible to forget. Not only does this song lay out the album’s sonic palette, but it also introduces Clinton’s loose, fun concept for the record with him playing the role of a hilarious morning DJ broadcasting live from outer space, promoting the band on his station WEFUNK. The lyrics feel almost improvisational with Clinton’s off the wall sense of humor driving the song’s boastful nature, talking directly to the listener, hardly even singing, instead letting his undeniable charisma carry the song through its seven minutes of irresistible groove. Clinton is a punchline machine on this song, dropping countless gems from calling himself “Lollipop man, alias the Long Haired Sucker” to urging the listener to put their ailing body parts on the radio to let the funk’s healing powers work their magic. He even expands on the competitive bent shown on Funkadelic’s last album Let’s Take It to the Stage (1975), taking shots at white artists who are adding a funk influence to their own music, challenging the perceived lack of funk possessed by David Bowie and The Doobie Brothers, who are both called out by name in hilarious pot shots. While Clinton’s monologues make for some memorable moments, the key to the song is when Clinton cedes the floor to the earth-shattering chorus hook, sung by the entire band, which has eight singers (the entire band has over twenty members), so whenever they all sing together in unison on these propulsive, chant-along choruses, a staple of every song here, it feels titanic in a way that sweeps you up with each listen. The communal, loose nature of the song, and the entire record is a major part of its charm, always giving off the sense that anything could happen, but Clinton always holds it together before anything completely goes off the rails. The song packs in countless stellar moments, from the brilliant horn solo and a jazzy piano break followed up by Clinton’s exclamation that he’s “doing it to ya in the earhole”. The songs builds to a dazzling climax with the full band singing the hook softly before crashing back in with full force, blowing the listener out of their chair. The track is nearly impossible to not tap a foot or bob your head to, it is funk distilled into seven thrilling minutes. The song makes for a brilliant, gentle lead in for both the record and Clinton’s brand of funk in general, because the next song delivers an early knockout punch with some of the album’s rawest funk.

The A-side’s enthralling centerpiece is the six minute groove throw down that is “Mothership Connection (Star Child)” which is an elastic slice of bass heavy funk. Bootsy Collins gets to show off on this song with one of his most rubbery hyperactive slap bass grooves over which the greasy guitar licks fall in with their gliding, elastic riff that descends and ascends from slow burning funk into quick fire arpeggios. The slick, booty quaking groove is arguably the most memorable instrumental passage of the record, but it wouldn’t be complete without the unstoppably punchy horn fills from Fred and Maceo, adding a soul flair to the stomping groove. The song is one of the most highly structured pieces on the record, showing off Clinton’s unique style of songwriting where instead of relying on verses and choruses, he layers in distinct, alternating hooks that stack on top of one another to create a tapestry of short, repeated phrases that build to a climax. Over these various melodic catch phrases, Clinton delivers another hysterical performance, spitting out various James Brown-styled commands to the band mixed in with his typical goofy asides, which he can hardly make it through without laughing. This track is particularly special for it being the first appearance of Clinton’s iconic catchphrase “Ain’t nothing but a party y’all”, a slogan that would come to define the P-Funk empire for decades to come. The band lays down two unique hooks that intertwine to become a powerhouse. Each hook on its own could power a lesser song, but together they electrify this number into something iconic. The blend of the call to arms “If you hear any noise it’s just me and the boys” (a chorus so iconic Kool & The Gang sampled it four years later for their disco anthem “Ladies’ Night”) and the interpolation of the spiritual “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” for the soulful bridge section (also iconically sampled by Dr. Dre on his anthemic George Clinton tribute “Let Me Ride”). When these two hooks overlap in a show of cosmic brilliance in the song’s closing moments it is transcendent, as Worrell’s keyboards take over the mix before the song fades out into the interstellar abyss. The song is a jam-packed five minutes but with a groove this infectious it could have been even longer and still felt too short. This track could be seen as the album’s most important as it introduced Clinton’s titular character Star Child who would become a recurring presence on the rest of the Parliament records made in the 70s. All the albums that follow this one would sustain a loose conceptual arc with each album presenting a new chapter in the adventures of Star Child from battling his nemesis Sir Nose D’Voidoffunk to making funkified clones and boogieing under the sea. This song functions as his eternal theme song and it is one befitting the superhero of funk music. The song is everything great about Parliament in six delicious minutes. Every member of the group gets a chance to show off their unique stylistic brilliance, stacking elements and weaving them together for a show stopping climax. Best of all, you can’t help but dance to it. This is funk in its purest form.

Perhaps the unsung hero of Mothership Connection is Glenn Goins, Clinton’s secret weapon and fellow lead vocalist, who gets two spotlight tracks to show off his soulful vocals, a rarity for P-Funk considering Clinton or Bootsy Collins sang lead on most if not all songs, but Goins adds a flavor to this record that no other P-Funk record has. The contrast between Clinton’s goofy, ersatz drawl and Goins’ more traditional soul shouter voice is vast but add to the dynamics of the record. His first showcase comes on the side one closer “Unfunky UFO” where his approach is to truly dig into the song delivering a rapturous, almost gospel tinged performance that isn’t far from the begging and pleading vocals of Four Tops’ lead singer Levi Stubbs. This is far away from the loose, improvisational spoken word ramblings of Clinton, which gives this song a more structured feel. The slice of funk-rock is driven by a fierce, greasy guitar licks and thumping slap bass licks where Goins shares lead vocals with Bootsy in an unprecedented duet, playing off each other brilliantly with Goins’ pleading vibrato blending oddly well with Bootsy’s druggy bass croon, with Clinton’s goofy ad-libs adding to the infectious concoction. The chorus packs a massive punch too, accentuated by the descending horn riffs that give the song a soulful, disco tinged flavor. The song is one of the briefest here, at a tight four minute, but the magic of this record is that while the song’s rarely show off any new tricks after the second minute, outside of solos, every song feels too short. The band is so ridiculously tight and in the pocket that you never want these grooves to end, which may be why every song here fades out instead of definitively ends, with it feeling like each groove extends infinitely into the universe. While “Unfunky UFO” is decidedly a band piece, “Handcuffs” belongs to Goins and Goins alone, with the song being the record’s only downtempo, ballad styled moment. The low slung throb of the bass mixed with the soulful, sultry horns make this piece radiate with sexuality that feels both smooth yet down and dirty. The song isn’t far removed from the steamiest of Marvin Gaye’s sex jams, but Clinton drowns it in a haze of sultry funk. Yet the true star is Goins’ truly transcendent vocal performance, where he squeezes every ounce of anguish and sex from the melody. His pained high notes strike an emotional chord that P-Funk rarely ever hit upon. The song has some twinges of swirling psychedelic soul in the keyboard licks and the doo-wop influenced backing vocal harmonies, which are rare for a group that typically prided themselves on unison singing. The song’s lone flaw is in its lyrics, which are about being overly possessive of a female partner, with a few lines reeking of chauvinism and even dancing dangerously close to abusive behavior, but it is all played firmly tongue in cheek for comic effect, even acknowledging its chauvinism, but while that softens the blow it doesn’t absolve the song’s backwards attitudes. Even with its lyrical deficiencies musically and vocally, this song cannot be denied. The song is sadly the record’s briefest piece, at only four minutes, but outside of the three anthemic singles, it is the best song here and features perhaps the best vocal performance in the entire P-Funk canon. A true lost classic.

The album’s B-side features two nearly instrumental tracks, and while on past efforts, these types of instrumentals were typically used as album filler, due to Clinton’s maddening release schedule, but these two are nearly as strong as the vocal pieces. Their secret weapon is the way in which both use wordless vocal hooks as another instrumental element to add to the mix, showing off Clinton’s unique style of arranging and production. Clinton’s use of the chanting vocal hook on “Supergroovalisticprosifunkstication (The Bump Bumps)” as just another element in the funky cocktail is brilliant. They never quite come to the front of the mix, but they provide a stomping riff which is the basis for Bernie Worrell’s best performance on the keys, laying down tons of catchy, squelchy synth riffs over top of the throbbing bass and drums, pioneering the style that he would solidify on future P-Funk outings. The album closes with another instrumental throw down, the martial “Night of the Thumpasorus People”, which may boast the album’s best bass line from Bootsy Collins, who slaps the hell out of his instrument to deliver some top tier, hair raising heavy funk with Maceo and Fred turning in some of their most melodic horn lines in place of a typical vocal melody. Instead the vocals provide a riff that wouldn’t sound out of place on the horns, and the bait and switch makes for a unique arranging trick. The song is grounded by full band scatting simple James Brown-isms and other funky ad-libs, and while that might sound scarce it is unskippable in the way that Clinton layers the riffs on top of each other to create something akin to a funkified version of jazz. These two songs show off that with or without words, George Clinton can write anthemic, memorable funk throw downs.

While all of these songs are world class slices of funk, every single track pales in comparison to the sixth track, the highlight of the album and perhaps the most important, iconic five and a half minutes in the vast P-Funk catalog, the deathless dance jam, “Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof Off the Sucker)”. The song again makes plain the genius way that Clinton layers and arranges both vocal lines and instrumental riffs, with the maestro weaving a veritable tapestry of vocal motifs and chanted hooks before embellishing them into a dazzling climax. He skillfully introduces each one on its own, letting it stick in the brain, before he weaves them together into something brilliant that builds to a world-shaking climax in its final minute. It might be the only funk song I’ve ever encountered that would work as a completely a cappella piece, but the band makes itself indispensable laying down a strong foundation with the throbbing, slap bass of Bootsy Collins and Tiki Fulwood’s propulsive drum work locking in to craft the heaviest low end of any track here. The rhythm section never phones it in on any track here, but this one in particular stands out as a career defining performance for both musicians. Fulwood had always been a strong presence on the earlier P-Funk records, but this is his shining moment on this LP, delivering heavy fills and crashing cymbal work that dominate the mix. Fred and Maceo’s horns provide yet another layer of melodic satisfaction with their punchy fills melding perfecting with Worrell’s squiggly synth riffs that add a spaced out edge to the track. The song shows the entire band playing at the peak of their powers, every element delivers exactly what the song needs to make it a steamrolling, powerhouse of a track. It seems deceptively simple, but it’s a complex showcase for the full band, with every member locking in, never taking up too much space but never getting lost in the shuffle. The song defines not just P-Funk, but funk in general. The song distills everything great about the genre into one undeniable five plus minutes. With this track, Clinton created a national anthem for an entire musical genre. A truly iconic song, distilling funk for generations to come. Out of this world in the best possible way.

That’s perhaps why this album is so enduring. It truly is the perfect encapsulation of what makes funk such a brilliant genre of music. A better introduction to funk music cannot be found. The entire band locks into such uniquely danceable grooves, each song takes time to spotlight each member of the ensemble, but never letting showy solos get in the way of the groove. Clinton in particular brings a unique sense of humor and levity to the project that makes it stand out from much other disco-era funk music. That humor never gets in the way of the music though, the band always takes themselves seriously enough to make music that has held up for almost fifty years. Clinton would continue to make great music for the rest with both Parliament and Funkadelic, as well as pioneering the art of synth-funk in the eighties during his fruitful solo career, but he would never make another album experience quite as strong as this one again. Parliament-Funkadelic are one of the most singular collectives not just in music, but in culture as a whole. They have influenced so much, from West Coast Hip Hop to American humor as a whole. P-Funk isn’t just music, it is a way of life, and if this record doesn’t convert you then nothing will. Funk defined, in 40 thrilling minutes.