George Clinton and the P-Funk All Stars
*Originally published in The Herald-Times on October 8, 1999. Reprinted here with permission.*
He’s a '70s and '80s rhythm and blues icon, often called the Prince of Urban Funk. An inductee into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and the mastermind behind Parliament and Funkadelic, George Clinton isn’t resting on his laurels.
The fifty-something musician, songwriter, and producer was preparing for the next millennium with music that expressed a “shift in paradigms,” he said. And he had a lot more funk to go around.
“I don't know what you'd call it,” Clinton said of his new music. “We're going to have techno, funk, rock ’n’ roll and blues all mixed together. You'll be able to taste the funk and feel the funk—like virtual funk reality.”
Funk, a rock- and soul-infused sound that evolved in the late ’60s, is more improvisational than soul and blends blues, jazz, and R&B. Clinton and his P-Funk All Stars were bringing that funk to Bloomington, Indiana, for a show at Mars nightclub.
So far, the vintage funk remained. It was the music that made Parliament and Funkadelic two of the hottest bands of their era—essentially one group of musicians split across two identities.
“We had more horns and guitars in Parliament with vocals and big harmonies,” Clinton said. “The Funkadelics had a more jazzy element to them—more instrumental.”
Many fans didn’t realize Clinton was the creative force behind both groups, as albums often highlighted performers like Bootsy Collins, who became a star in his own right.
Clinton’s then-current release, Dope Dog, was a blend of driving rhythms, synthesized techno-soul, and hip hop—everything that placed his music on the cutting edge in the '80s.
His voice was an instrument in itself. Though not a conventional singer, Clinton’s bassy, Isaac Hayes–like voice spoke, rapped, and shouted through lyrics of spaceships, nuclear age fantasies, and, of course, funk.
In the early ’70s, Clinton created the voice of “Sir Nose” using an Echoplex to make his vocals sound submerged—cutting-edge at the time.
Parliament and Funkadelic scored many hits, but Atomic Dog (1983) became a massive success—an essential track at African American frat parties across the country.
Three albums later, he released Mothership Connection, another landmark record featuring Bootsy Collins. His concerts became theatrical events, complete with elaborate sets and a spaceship that descended onto the stage.
“We got slicker, but without suits,” he said. “We got Bootsy and Maceo [Parker, James Brown’s horn player]. We had outer space music—funky music with jazz overtones and with costumes and spaceships.”
Clinton’s influence grew from a deep well of creativity and self-expression, including his history as a hairdresser in New Jersey.
“My hairdressing gig gave me the freedom to look for a record deal,” he said.
He began in doo-wop, worked at Motown, and gradually carved his own genre-blending path. As the musical landscape evolved, Clinton adapted.
“I realized that you had to stay with the flow and come up with something new all the time,” he said. “The white groups were doing blues and rock ’n’ roll so I took the mid-tempo funky route. It’s the nasty one. The music was slow and bluesy but just enough groove that you wouldn’t stop dancing.”
Eventually, Clinton introduced the Mothership concept—a spaceship as both stage prop and metaphor.
“I had to put Black people in a place where nobody had ever seen them before,” he said. “That was outer space, as in W-E-F-U-N-K. We funk.”
By the ’80s, he’d moved into more electronic, hip-hop–influenced music, and his sound became some of the most heavily sampled in the business.
“We’ve been rehearsing for the millennium for all these years,” Clinton said. “My lyrics are going to be cryptic. It’s gonna have to be coded. Your butt will figure it out first. Once you learn to dance to it, it’ll be like Morse Code.”
Originally published in The Herald-Times.
Reporter Michelle Henderson covered major figures in music and the arts throughout her career in entertainment journalism.