The MirrorARCHIVES: Sep 25 - Oct 01.2008 Vol. 24 No. 15  
Mirror Music

 


Funkmospheric
pressure


L.A.’s dâm-Funk finds new frontiers
for old-school synth-soul




ASTRAL PROJECTIONS: dâm-Funk


by RUPERT BOTTENBERG

Call it space funk, electro-funk, modern soul or boogie, but that turn-of-the-’80s sound—gentle jams full of rubbery grooves, slick licks and hi-tech keys caked in stardust—is a thing of the past to most. To Los Angeles DJ and musician dâm-Funk (pronounced “dame-funk,” a contraction of Damon Garrett Riddick), though, it’s the past, present and future.

“My original material was considered modern funk,” says dâm-Funk, on the horn from Culver City, CA, “but the music that I spin out, that I’ve been getting a name for, is the boogie sound and the funk sound, which I’ve joined to create boogie funk. Boogie came out of the U.K., in the mid-’80s, when they were listening to that type of sound from the U.S. It was basically post-disco, but not all the way funk, like Zapp or P-Funk. It was more like the electrified disco that came after the first run died. Basslines became more prevalent, and so did electronic synthesizers, as opposed to orchestration and horns.

“The whole fun of it is keeping the wax aspect alive, for collectors and what have you. There are a lot of sounds that came out of the boogie era, maybe late 1979 to ’84, that were mostly pressed on private labels, so it kinda sounds fresh and new, even though it’s older—and that’s where the haze is created.”

Hanging up the G-thang

That haze can be found every Monday at Funkmosphere, dâm-Funk’s weekly at the cozy Carbon lounge in his West L.A. neighbourhood. “It must be something pretty good, because to even bring people out on a Monday, I just chalk it up to people caring about the music.”

That renewed interest, by extension, can be chalked up to, for starters, the loverboy synth-funk of Montreal’s Chromeo. “The thing I like about them is that they’re keeping the funk alive, a certain sliver of it. Now the next phase, I think, is going to be even more—not to say prog rock, probably a bad example, but maybe some concept albums can come along, and a bit more seriousness, as opposed to how right now we’re on the level of getting the kids used to the sound.”

Getting people used to it is what dâm-Funk’s been up to since forever, having home-recorded cassettes of funk covers for high school pals—“Still have that stuff tucked away in a shoebox,” he says.

“Prince is a very integral influence of mine, as far as his approach to recording goes. Being an only child, I connected with the fact that he did all the music himself. It wasn’t about ego, it was out of necessity, being on my own.”

Not for too long. When West Coast G-funk rap blew up in the early ’90s, dâm-Funk’s flair on the keys led to session work for Westside Connection and others. “The thing I give up to the whole G-funk thing is that it was more musical as opposed to sample-driven. I was around a lot of that, never to mention the residual gangster things—I’d go to sessions and there’d be guns lying around and stuff. That’s cool, I grew up in the ’hood as well, but I didn’t intend for music to be an obstacle course of mental jousting with gangsters. I did it right, I got my respect and my credits, but what I decided one night as I was driving from the studio was, ‘Man, I gotta do my own thing.’”

Cosmic chords

Enter Peanut Butter Wolf, renowned DJ/producer and head of the Stones Throw label, who shared dâm-Funk’s love of Zapp, Slave, One Way, Cameo and such. “Couldn’t believe he liked that, because he’s so associated with backpacker hip hop.”

Their first effort was a remix of Baron Zen’s “Burn Rubber,” with its Gap Band bite, and before long, dâm-Funk had signed a two-album deal. “Now I’m doing a rhythm-tracks album, which is just mastered, so I guess that makes three. We’re just trying to build, and Wolf is very supportive in trying to get funk respect again, get it back in the game. That’s all I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Well, that and space travel, or what he calls “astral understanding.” With freaky synths and a debt to P-Funk’s cosmic antics, the old-school electro-funk, as much as dâm-Funk’s own originals (silky sweetness with titles like “Solar Angels” and “Galactic Fun”), is anything but earthbound. “I like to take people to different places, and it takes science involved, an understanding of science fiction—or even not the fiction part. It takes that understanding to travel to other places without a vehicle. The music is the vehicle. When you close your eyes and let those chords hit you in a certain way, you can imagine being in another world. Even where it comes to the African aspect and the origins of it—even back then, there is evidence that they’d been touched by visitors from other places. It’s rhythmic, it’s vibrational and it’s related to chords.”

WITH TY-G, SCOTT C AND ANDY
WILLIAMS AT LA SALA ROSSA ON
SATURDAY, SEPT. 27, 10:30 P.M., $12

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