Cosmic Funkadelic

With a much more stripped-down version of the band, if the credits are to be believed (five regular members total, not counting any vocalists), Funkadelic continued its way through life with Cosmic Slop. A slightly more scattershot album than the group's other early efforts, with generally short tracks (only two break the five-minute barrier) and some go-nowhere ballads, Cosmic Slop still has plenty to like about it, not least because of the monstrous title track. A bitter, heartbreaking portrait of a family on the edge, made all the more haunting and sad by the sweet vocal work - imagine an even more mournful "Papa Was a Rollin' Stone" - the chorus is a killer, with the devil invited to the dance while the band collectively fires up the funk…

With a much more stripped-down version of the band, if the credits are to be believed (five regular members total, not counting any vocalists), Funkadelic continued its way through life with Cosmic Slop. A slightly more scattershot album than the group's other early efforts, with generally short tracks (only two break the five-minute barrier) and some go-nowhere ballads, Cosmic Slop still has plenty to like about it, not least because of the monstrous title track. A bitter, heartbreaking portrait of a family on the edge, made all the more haunting and sad by the sweet vocal work - imagine an even more mournful "Papa Was a Rollin' Stone" - the chorus is a killer, with the devil invited to the dance while the band collectively fires up the funk…

Funkadelic's major-label jump brought its version of life more into line with Parliament, though the crucial difference between the two – Funkadelic's guitars vs. Parliament's horns – remains intact. Eddie Hazel is missed, as always, but Gary Shider and Mike Hampton do fine work. Whoever peels off the concluding solo at the end of "Comin' Round the Mountain" deserves credit, even if it's sometimes flash for flash's sake. Similar exercises in feedback can be found on the title track and elsewhere, sometimes great, sometimes timekeeping. Still, after all, the album itself is dedicated "to the guitar players of the world," so it can't be said that George Clinton and company aren't keeping the proper focus on things.

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)…

Expanding back out to a more all-over-the-place lineup - about 15 or so people this time out - Funkadelic got a bit more back on track with Standing on the Verge. Admittedly, George Clinton repeats a trick from America Eats Its Young via another re-recording of an Osmium track, namely leadoff cut "Red Hot Mama." However, starting as it does with a hilarious double soliloquy (with the first voice sounding like the happier brother of Sir Nose d'Voidoffunk) and coming across with a fierce new take, it's a good omen for Standing on the Verge as a whole. Eddie Hazel's guitar work in particular is just plain bad-ass; after his absence from Cosmic Slop, it's good to hear him fully back in action with Bernie Worrell, Cordell Mosson, Gary Shider, and the rest…