"Searchin' for funk's future..."
Rock started as a form of dance music. It only became widely respected as an art form once the Beatles and the Beach Boys started making music designed for home listening. With his 2009 compendium Toeachizown, Dam-Funk may have been trying to put funk through the same transition.
Funk's been around for half a century, of course, and it's produced more than a few relatively non-danceable high-art masterpieces--There's A Riot Goin' On, 1999, Voodoo. But while these records behave very much in the way funk is expected to, Toeachizown is something entirely different, assembled from the pieces of the '80s robo-funk pioneered by George Clinton and Zapp. It's every bit a deconstruction.
If anyone has the right to do this, it's Dam-Funk. Born Damon Riddick, the Los Angeleno started making fairly generic boogie in the '80s before floundering in obscurity for nearly two decades. By the time indie hip hop label Stones Throw finally picked him up for the singles and EPs he'd later combine into Toeachizown, he'd developed a distinct style that took the signifiers of '80s synth-funk and repurposed them into something unprecedented. There really is nothing else that sounds like Toeachizown.
This is a holistic approach to funk. The little details--the music-box on "Toeachizown (D-F's Theme)," the little video-game synth lead on "Searchin' 4 Funk's Future"--are as integral to the listening experience as the grooves. The most distinctive hallmark of his sound is the soaring chords he layers over almost everything. They're clearly made with a synth chord preset, so their presence is less a testament to Dam-Funk's virtuosity as his ear. (If you want to know how he makes them: "Jazz 3" on a Roland Juno-Di.)
Usually, Toeachizown is less interested in moving bodies than inspiring awe. Many track titles pertain to flight, skies, or infinity. 10-minute beaut "Brookside Park" is named after a park in Dam-Funk's native L.A., and it evokes the same natural wonder as the best ambient music. ("Searchin' 4 Funk's Future" and "In Flight" are more or less straight ambient.) Even the record itself is imposing: it's nearly two and a half hours long, and Dam-Funk greets you on the cover with a stare that could break glass.
This packaging seems chiefly designed to counter any accusations of irony. Toeachizown was released on the cusp of an indieverse obsession with the 1980s, whose musical signifiers bands often interpreted with tongue in cheek. But Toeachizown is deathly serious. The record's light on cliches, save for Dam-Funk's occasional George Clinton-esque ramblings about the "the funk"--which is forgivable seeing as Toeachizown is a pretty strong argument for the powers of the funk. ("This funk is so real!" he blurts out on "Searchin' 4 Funk's Future.)
An album with such serious intent might sound like a drag, especially given its length. But Toeachizown is a fun listen, especially on shuffle. You never know what you might get next. You know it'll have giant chords, a vintage drum machine, a big synth bass, maybe some absent-minded crooning. But these sounds, familiar to funk, are contorted into dozens of new and alien shapes. Toeachizown is one of the most compelling musical arguments for the vitality of the music of a bygone era, and one of the strongest cases against indie music's beloved irony.
Funk's been around for half a century, of course, and it's produced more than a few relatively non-danceable high-art masterpieces--There's A Riot Goin' On, 1999, Voodoo. But while these records behave very much in the way funk is expected to, Toeachizown is something entirely different, assembled from the pieces of the '80s robo-funk pioneered by George Clinton and Zapp. It's every bit a deconstruction.
If anyone has the right to do this, it's Dam-Funk. Born Damon Riddick, the Los Angeleno started making fairly generic boogie in the '80s before floundering in obscurity for nearly two decades. By the time indie hip hop label Stones Throw finally picked him up for the singles and EPs he'd later combine into Toeachizown, he'd developed a distinct style that took the signifiers of '80s synth-funk and repurposed them into something unprecedented. There really is nothing else that sounds like Toeachizown.
This is a holistic approach to funk. The little details--the music-box on "Toeachizown (D-F's Theme)," the little video-game synth lead on "Searchin' 4 Funk's Future"--are as integral to the listening experience as the grooves. The most distinctive hallmark of his sound is the soaring chords he layers over almost everything. They're clearly made with a synth chord preset, so their presence is less a testament to Dam-Funk's virtuosity as his ear. (If you want to know how he makes them: "Jazz 3" on a Roland Juno-Di.)
Usually, Toeachizown is less interested in moving bodies than inspiring awe. Many track titles pertain to flight, skies, or infinity. 10-minute beaut "Brookside Park" is named after a park in Dam-Funk's native L.A., and it evokes the same natural wonder as the best ambient music. ("Searchin' 4 Funk's Future" and "In Flight" are more or less straight ambient.) Even the record itself is imposing: it's nearly two and a half hours long, and Dam-Funk greets you on the cover with a stare that could break glass.
This packaging seems chiefly designed to counter any accusations of irony. Toeachizown was released on the cusp of an indieverse obsession with the 1980s, whose musical signifiers bands often interpreted with tongue in cheek. But Toeachizown is deathly serious. The record's light on cliches, save for Dam-Funk's occasional George Clinton-esque ramblings about the "the funk"--which is forgivable seeing as Toeachizown is a pretty strong argument for the powers of the funk. ("This funk is so real!" he blurts out on "Searchin' 4 Funk's Future.)
An album with such serious intent might sound like a drag, especially given its length. But Toeachizown is a fun listen, especially on shuffle. You never know what you might get next. You know it'll have giant chords, a vintage drum machine, a big synth bass, maybe some absent-minded crooning. But these sounds, familiar to funk, are contorted into dozens of new and alien shapes. Toeachizown is one of the most compelling musical arguments for the vitality of the music of a bygone era, and one of the strongest cases against indie music's beloved irony.