KID SHIRT

Thursday, May 19, 2005

"A.E.I.O.U..."

Inbetween complaining about Abi Titmus in my comments-box, Dom quite rightly suggests that we all need to calm down a bit and get into a mellow Mid-Eighties Jazz-Funk groove. Time for a revival, methinks...

Ah, but did the white sox 'n' loafers brigade ever really go away? Recent evidence unearthed here suggests that they didn't. Is it just me, or do they look fucking evil in that picture?

Now, here's an idea: howabout Death Jazz-Funk? Or Black Jazz-Funk? (And by "Black", I mean "Morbid & Texturally Dark", not, er, "Of African Descent"...)

No? Then howabout "Pagan Jazz-Funk" (Axe-wielding Odin-worshippers in tassle'd loafers, red baseball jackets and blonde-highlighted quiffs) or "Doom Jazz-Funk" (bright-and-breezy keyboard-and-fretless-bass work-outs featuring a pair of Pepsi and Shirley lookalikes with Big Hair singing about slow dismemberment and eating your own shit) or "Grindcore Jazz-Funk" (dry-ice, and slap-bass licks slowed down to a wash of brutal, bowel-churning sub-bass frequencies)?

But if you're feeling particularly masochistic you could check out this. Again, a strange and murky-looking photo that hints at psychik collapse or frantik abuse of some new and unfathomable narcotic that makes everything look dark-yet-shiney, like Olivia Newton-John's spray-on trousers. Is it me or does that look like some sort of futuristic gimp-suit. Boy, the Nu Wave of Jazz-Funk sure is a lot darker than when I was a lad... back then it was a form of stripped-back urban Designer Prog that had evolved to allow aspirational Working-Class lads to pull girls who worked in shops...

Mind you (uh-ho: confession time), I always had a soft spot for Freeez.

Right, then, see you later. I'm off to buy a Ford Capri.

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