All star band killing it featuring Colin L (usaisamonster), Matt Mottel (talibam), Matt Clarke (Ostinato), Jimmy Thomson (Gwar), Jesse Lent (Monte Vista), Jonny Matteo(La Fundacion), Dave Kadden (Invisible Circle), Wes Buckley (Dick Heaven), a horn section. bongos. solos. psychedelic.The A-Side Bad Banana Bread, Jesus I'm at a loss here...it's not George Clinton style, 70's funk..at least not to me....you know there's just no way to not sound like an ignorant asshole here....An oboe is not something I normally hear or associate with funk. There are definitely some groovy basslines and that stunted slap electric. The horn sections are of course nicely blasting away. Huge echo cowbell in the middle. The amount of talented musicians in the NY area is mind boggling.
The B-Side Caneca, definitely has a cowbell in there also and this track sounds more frantic, how do you get that electric sound? The all treble jangle that's completely distinct to the funk. The horn section is really dirty, cracking all over the place, a little overblown, brassy...or someone has a muffle in there. Throw a solo in there and it starts to go south of the border. What can I say, there's a world of contemporary funk out there, I just didn't think it was happening on my doorstep. Nuts.
Electric Cowbell Records has one waiting for you on black vinyl with xerox insert in their webstore:
When flipping though singles in the new bin how do you not pick up a 45 for a band that has got 4 alternate names on it? CSC Funk Band, aka CSC Racket, aka Newtown Creek Playboys, aka Thrift Store Find, aka Fuck The Funk Band. Whatever they want to call it, the Bad Banana Bread single is definitely (and defiantly) more James Brown then James Murphy, and more acid-fried Funkadelic than either, given Colin Langenus's ripping leads and Dave Kadden's completely bonkers, Ethiopiques-tinged oboe solo. This is some low-down dirty toxic North Brooklyn sludge funk.
Caneca features some mighty fast-funk, guitar-based instrumental grooving. Reminiscent of Remain In The Light-era Talking Heads but with with more of a sense of Bushwick loft party-urgency that begets bongos and cowbells blazing on steroids. A succinct two-and-a-half minute burner that climaxes two-thirds of the way through when the band halts in mid-gallop to shout in unison CANECA!!!
killer man. thanks for the love. peace, jimmy t.
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