There are many odd things about me, and I don't just acknowledge them. I accept and embrace them.
A long time ago, I realized that striving for "normalcy in the eyes of other people" was a futile and, frankly, boring pursuit. It was much easier for me to embrace my idiosyncracies and unique interests and say "Fuck All" to whatever was popular at the time.
Of course, I’ve also taken certain aspects of my upbringing in stride...
Thus, since my parents were oldies/beach music/classic rock junkies, I also came to appreciate these genres (or basic classifications) in my own special way. Which is, of course, to stand atop the world and glorify them to the greatest extent of my powers.
And it’s funny how people my parents’ age (and older) seem amazed at how a black-clad, simultaneously-evil-and-goofy-looking, twenty-something-jackass can have such a comprehensive knowledge of and unconditional love for music made, in most cases, well over thirty years (and, in some cases, more) before he was born.
And, granted, I freak out, as well, when I meet people younger than myself (my funky brother excluded) who also have an anachronistic oldies obsession. But, granted further, people younger than myself are much more likely to have horrible musical tastes than those in their late-20's and above (generally speaking). I mean, anyone who’d rather listen to Justin Timberlake, Jet, or My Chemical Romance than, say, Stevie Wonder is in need of a violent and life-changing aural dropkick to the ears.
So, to help educate those with "musical deficiencies" and to bolster solidarity and enthusiastic discussion amongst those who are perpetually in the Groove, we shall provide a brief, intermittent list of classic songs and artists that have inspired and continue to inspire one Rev. J.J. Hull.
To begin, I submit one of my favorite songs that no one else I know has ever heard....
Wilson Pickett - Engine Number 9
They didn’t call my man "Wicked" for nothing. Take Wilson's throat-searing soul vocals, add in a nasty guitar line, some serious percussion (someone’s wearing a cowbell out), and a James Brown vibe, and you’ve got a cut that’s just as funky now as the day it was laid down.
And feel free to check out the rest of Wicked’s catalog. He simply refuses to disappoint.
Showing posts with label Funk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Funk. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Friday, January 19, 2007
OUR FUNKY MISSION
The Church of the Everlasting Groove has a very simple goal.
We are charged by the Funky Lord to go forth and spread our particular breed of insanity across the far expanses of the globe.
We do not recognize differences in race, nationality, or ethnicity. We do not discriminate against anyone based on matters of sexuality, wealth, or educational background. In fact, membership in our Church, becoming, as the kids say, a "Funky Monkey," does not require one to even know of the Church’s existence. The inherent Funk in any person gives them automatic membership; for this reason, we are, quite possibly, the largest Church in the world. We see everyone as citizens of humanity under the great, powerful, and indubitably Funky Lord.
For the Lord is Funky, brothers and sisters, and He asks very little of His flock. He asks only that "you gotta hear the Groove and shake some booty" (Funklesiastes 7:3).
In the past, critics of the Church (those who have closed their hearts and booties to the Glory of the Funk) have accused us of discriminating against the physically disabled, those who are unable, for various reasons, to engage in the sacred ritual of "The Shaking of the Booty." This is a lie, my Funky Congregation. You do not have to be able to dance to participate in the ceremonial booty shaking; a tap of the foot or a nod of the head will show the Funky Lord his due. Some of us, your humble Reverend included, don’t even enjoy dancing or do it so poorly as to embarrass the Funky Lord. "When it comes to the basics of Funk, a head-bang’s just as good as a bump and grind, y’all" (Letters from St. Jonesy 12:12). As far as critics of the Church go, Jonesy also had this to say, quoting a sermon from the Funky Savior Himself, "Fat Back" Jackson...
"The cat that tries to get down without the Funk ain’t doing nothing but selling you jive." (St. Jonesy 18:7)
We at the Church hope that you will let the Funk into your heart (and booty) and save yourself from the boring, inane, soul-crushing, and utterly damning influence of the Anti-Funk. Have no comfortable delusions, brothers and sisters, the Anti-Funk is alive on this world and flourishing. One need only turn on the radio or TV to be inundated with Darkness Merchants peddling artists, musicians, and vacuous personalities who wouldn’t know the Funk if it called and invited them over for cocktails.
Our media is run by Funkless Turkeys more interested in pleasing the Funkless Masses than giving life a good, swift kick in the ass.
The government is frighteningly bereft of Funkiness. Ever since the newly canonized St. James Brown wrote his brilliant political treatise "Funky President," we’ve only had one elected official to qualify as an Esteemed Funk Master. He played the sax, he played the field, and he was the only presidential candidate to receive the full support of the Church. Remember, Bill, the annual Catfish Fry, Barbeque, and Funk Festival is at your pad this year!
I’ll leave you now, my Funky Monkeys, with a bit of wisdom from one of the Sacred Cuts.
As Kool and the Gang said, "Feel the Funk, y’all. Let it flow." ("Jungle Boogie," ‘73)
We are charged by the Funky Lord to go forth and spread our particular breed of insanity across the far expanses of the globe.
We do not recognize differences in race, nationality, or ethnicity. We do not discriminate against anyone based on matters of sexuality, wealth, or educational background. In fact, membership in our Church, becoming, as the kids say, a "Funky Monkey," does not require one to even know of the Church’s existence. The inherent Funk in any person gives them automatic membership; for this reason, we are, quite possibly, the largest Church in the world. We see everyone as citizens of humanity under the great, powerful, and indubitably Funky Lord.
For the Lord is Funky, brothers and sisters, and He asks very little of His flock. He asks only that "you gotta hear the Groove and shake some booty" (Funklesiastes 7:3).
In the past, critics of the Church (those who have closed their hearts and booties to the Glory of the Funk) have accused us of discriminating against the physically disabled, those who are unable, for various reasons, to engage in the sacred ritual of "The Shaking of the Booty." This is a lie, my Funky Congregation. You do not have to be able to dance to participate in the ceremonial booty shaking; a tap of the foot or a nod of the head will show the Funky Lord his due. Some of us, your humble Reverend included, don’t even enjoy dancing or do it so poorly as to embarrass the Funky Lord. "When it comes to the basics of Funk, a head-bang’s just as good as a bump and grind, y’all" (Letters from St. Jonesy 12:12). As far as critics of the Church go, Jonesy also had this to say, quoting a sermon from the Funky Savior Himself, "Fat Back" Jackson...
"The cat that tries to get down without the Funk ain’t doing nothing but selling you jive." (St. Jonesy 18:7)
We at the Church hope that you will let the Funk into your heart (and booty) and save yourself from the boring, inane, soul-crushing, and utterly damning influence of the Anti-Funk. Have no comfortable delusions, brothers and sisters, the Anti-Funk is alive on this world and flourishing. One need only turn on the radio or TV to be inundated with Darkness Merchants peddling artists, musicians, and vacuous personalities who wouldn’t know the Funk if it called and invited them over for cocktails.
Our media is run by Funkless Turkeys more interested in pleasing the Funkless Masses than giving life a good, swift kick in the ass.
The government is frighteningly bereft of Funkiness. Ever since the newly canonized St. James Brown wrote his brilliant political treatise "Funky President," we’ve only had one elected official to qualify as an Esteemed Funk Master. He played the sax, he played the field, and he was the only presidential candidate to receive the full support of the Church. Remember, Bill, the annual Catfish Fry, Barbeque, and Funk Festival is at your pad this year!
I’ll leave you now, my Funky Monkeys, with a bit of wisdom from one of the Sacred Cuts.
As Kool and the Gang said, "Feel the Funk, y’all. Let it flow." ("Jungle Boogie," ‘73)
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