Sheesh that Bob Forward doesn't know when to stop gibbin' me Christmas presents, first with the Richard Lloyd book reviewed a few weeks back 'n now this three-year-old George Clinton autobiography which I gotta say slipped by my sights perhaps due to money envy. But I don't care because I know, just like you all, that GETTING is better than GIVING, and when it comes to givin' the only thing I'm gonna give you is THE WORKS because man, you all certainly deserve it!
But a George Clinton autobio is what we all need, and this 'un does a pretty good job of detailin' alla the neat and sordid parts of the Funkadelicament thang's life from humble country beginnings to Dee-troit psychedelicament and on, and it's a pretty wild ride that make a whole lotta similar sagas look pretty staid. Rocky at times and the latter part of the book dealing with the mega-stardom days of the act doesn't quite get me, but when Clinton's talking about things like "Maggot Brain" and the Process Church you can bet that my perk-o-meter's pickin' up all up at full tilt and absorbing it into my always a'hungerin' for crucial rockist information brain. And Clinton dishes it out, pretty good and in that nice talk to instead of at you way that I like in a book.
For the average BLOG TO COMM reader (who is far from "average" if you get my drift) there are interesting little bits and shards of early-seventies Detroitian matters to chew on, from the mention of the proposed by CREEM marriage of Clinton and Iggy Pop (wonder which one's gonna be the "bride" ifyaknowaddamean) to the time Funkadelic and the MC5 were on a jet and the latter band was smokin' the doob in an overt effort to attract attention. Nice stuff to digest true, but the meaty portion of Clinton's life and travails (especially regarding copyright ownership and the hassles that put upon his work) really do engross ya even if you thought those late-seventies singles weren't quite up yer ever-expansive alley.
This guy is what I'd call like a LIVING TREASURE and sure the music changed a lot over the years and doesn't zone you in like it did during the Westbound days, but it's still a journey that will astound, and maybe even reveal the true nature of deep down hard funk that's evaded you your entire butt-pitted life!
A definite reader here, and if I had a book club like Oprah this might even be the read o' the week!
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