Funkadelic was not something I expected to become a fan of when I started listening to the titular song, I would not have even know who it was I was listening to if I hadn't been informed, but I knew I liked it and so it was time to change some long standing opinions.
My preconceived negative notions of the band came from the dorky white boys that touted the skills of George Clinton, forcing me to listen to the tripped out world of Parliament as a Jane's Addiction teenager. It was a tough sell, and the nerdy earnestness of such fans made it even more difficult.
The band itself was always intriguing, clearly the day glo dreadlocks and Bootsy Collins piqued some curiosity in my mind. Years later, I find myself with an album on repeat that is far more spacey and rocking and heavy and interesting than I ever imagined the “funky” music white boys were always talking about could be. Who knew?
This album stands as a landmark in music history even if it influenced the mediocrity of Lenny Kravitz. This is good driving music, with it's vast soundscapes and long guitar journeys (one of these solos, wikipedia has it, came into being when George asked guitarist Eddie Hazel to play the first part as if his mother had died and the second half as if he found out she was alive).
Such dichotomies and shifts in style and mood pervade the album and make for a bizarre and entertainingly complex experience. Now I will be the nerdy white kid listening to funk, finally understanding why this is always making the best album ever charts.