The Cult of his Personality: George Clinton - "The Good Dr. Funkenstein"?

The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein (courtesy Wikimedia Commons )

The Good Dr. Funkenstein

April 1978

“You think it’s easy being Dr. Funkenstein”, he says opening our conversation.  He is George Clinton leader of Parliament-Funkadelic, and producer of many offshoot funk groups.  Clinton called me while I was frying bacon in my kitchen.  We discussed his music and the abstract entity known as funk music.

            Clinton believes that everything runs in cycles.  In or about 1957, the cycle began when the nucleus of Parliament was formed when Clinton got together with Fuzzy Haskins, Grady Thomas, Ray Davis, and Calvin Simon.  Known then as the Parliaments, the slick haired doo-wop singers scored several years later with a song called “I Wanna Testify”.  The year was 1967.

            Shortly thereafter, the Parliaments lost control of their name and a legal battle ensued.  In the meantime, these same people formed a group called the Funkadelics.  Unlike their alter ego, the emphasis was not on vocals, but on instrumentation—hard rock guitars dominated their sound.

            George Clinton around this time worked as a songwriter with Motown, where he wrote hit songs for other artists.  The Funkadelics remained black cult figures noted for their weird onstage antics and costumes.  This black rock group went on to record rock classics like “Maggot Brain”, “America Eats Its Young”, and “Cosmic Slop” to name a few.  The rock ego of the Thang never reached commercial success, “We always had 250,000 die-hard funk freaks buying our albums,” Clinton says.

            Parliament, now without the ‘s’, recorded “Osmium” now a rare LP on Invictus.  Up for The Down Stroke and Chocolate City are the first two albums recorded on the new label.

            Then Clinton and Parliament struck gold with the concept for Mothership Connection and the interest in the vocal-oriented ego takes and upsurge.  The now classic track that speaks of extra-terrestrial beings to the tune of funk was chalk full of hits, including, “P-funk”, “Mothership Connection” and “Tear the Roof Off the Sucker”.

            Parliament in ’76 releases Clones of Dr. Funkenstein.  The group with staging my Jules Fisher creates an imaginative three-act funk opera for live presentation.  The show featured the landing of a spacecraft, dancing gigantic figures on poles, a huge apple cap attached to equally large sunglasses, which shot out laser beams of light.

            A live album is recorded in an attempt to capture the sound of the P-funk Earth Tour.  Parliament Live, a compilation of the best songs from Mothership Connection, Clones of Dr. Funkenstein together with a couple Funkadelic songs and some new material.

            The Funkadelics meanwhile changed labels and are now on Warner Bros. Records.  The first release on their new label is Hardcore Jollies.  Their last Westbound album, Tales of Kidd Funkadelic contained somewhat of a hit single in “Undisco Kid”.       

            But in 1977, Parliament returns full force with Funkentelechy vs. The Placebo Syndrome 10 years after “I Wanna Testify”; and 20 years after Clinton joined up with Haskins, Thomas, Davis and Simon formed the nucleus of Parliament-Funkadelic.

            With another 10 years cycle completed, Parliament is enjoying its greatest success.  Besides the albums of both egos, they have spawned other groups like Bootsy’s Rubberband, and The Horny Horns.  There are two female groups ready and waiting in the wings.

             The man many believe is responsible for their success says, “Do you really think I do all that stuff by myself?”  He modestly claims, “We have a think tank that comes up with ides every day.”

            A think tank may exist, but it was Clinton who came up with the concept for Chocolate City while watching CBS’ “60 Minutes” program.  This particular episode dealt with growing urban problems facing many major cities.  Whites were fleeing the cities for the suburbs, while blacks were taking over the city populations.

            Chocolate city and its vanilla suburbs became the concept and rhetoric for Parliaments’ first Casablanca LP and the fir Clinton created concept.  “People heard the line, ‘why use the bullet when you’ve got the ballot’ and thought I was getting political when it was just reality we were talking about.”

            For Mothership Connection Clinton again denies he was responsible for coming up with the idea.  It was not created after seeing what he insists was not a UFO. 

            One night the story goes, he was driving with bassist, Bootsy Collins when a fluid white light descended on the road.  “You know how the light comes up on the road in the film “Close Encounters…” he asks.  “The light appeared and poured over the car in the same way Mercury flows.  I don’t know what happened to the car behind us.  It disappeared.”

           

Journalist, Charlotte Morgan with George Clinton in the
lobby of a Holiday Inn in Columbus Ohio.

The funk mentor cites the Steven Spielberg film, “Close Encounters of The Third Kind” as being the “best film ever made which realistically deals with UFOs.”  As a child, Clinton says, movies like “War of The Worlds”, and “The Day the Earth Stood Still” dealt unrealistically with aliens.  “I always felt if guys from another planet were bad enough to fly here, then I knew they could wipe out our tanks.  The only think wrong with “Close Encounters…” is when the mothership landed, they didn’t have me coming out of it.”

            Well, the Clinton and Parliament created mothership brought aliens in search of pure funk, which they left on this planet centuries ago, or so the rhetoric dictates.  These aliens built the pyramids in Egypt and the monuments on Easter Island.  It was on this LP that the character of Starchild first appears.

            For someone who doesn’t create anything, he manages to become the focal point of the next album, Clones of Dr. Funkenstein.  The good doctor was chosen to discover the secret formula of “p-funk”.  He uses this funk he has recreated in his laboratory aboard the mothership to create an invasion force that comes to earth.  The task of these clones is to save the planet from funklessness.

            The current studio LP, Funkentelechy vs. The Placebo Syndrome or the adventures of Starchild vs. Sir Nose D’Voidoffunk was thought up by one of Parliament’s fans.  “The battle between Starchild and a bad guy came in a letter, but in that exact form.  We came up with the definition of the characters, giving them names.”

            The only new character being, Sir Nose portrays the bad guy who represents the syndrome.   Starchild sent down to the planet by Dr. Funkenstein represents Funkentelechy.

            “Funkentelechy is funk + entelechy, an actual Greek word meaning self-realization, the rhythm in which you groove.  Placebo Syndrome is the system of false rewards and punishment that exist.  You are encouraged to work for these rewards and when you achieve them, they turn out to be placebos.”

            So according to Dr. Funkenstein, the album is about the life and death battle to stop Sir Nose with the Bop Gun from spreading the syndrome.

            Chocolate City people have always thought of Parliament as making political communications through their music.  Clinton says, “It means whatever you want it to mean.  Some blacks don’t want to hear anything too deep in their music, so for them the lyrics are silly.  Others who are looking for more can read deep political messages in the lyrics.”

            For some, “Funkentelechy” is about Starchild trying to make Sir Nose dance or give up the funk.  While for others, Starchild is trying to prevent Sir Nose from trapping people into working for false rewards.

            Basically, Clinton likes to keep his politics to himself.  However, the concept is so solid he says, “Like Chocolate City it makes too much sense.”  And that’s when he believes politics and reality intertwined.

            The lyrical aspect of their musical trip is one which Clinton and company control.  Where do the ideas for the albums come from?  “There’s no real secret, we get them straight from brains on Madison Avenue.  Those advertisers research the impact of the slogs like ‘How do you spell relief?’ well before using the.  Afterwards I use them.”

            For many Parliament-Funkadelic are trendsetters--through communicating new trends in dress or slang, there is no one like them.  On the P-funk Earth Tour, thousands of fans were inspired to wear sunglasses because Clinton on the Mothership Connection album he said, “You’ve got to have your sunglasses on so you can be cool.”

            On the new album, the single “Flashlight” has spawned another trend in concert going.  Without having to suggest anything, black youths carry flashlights to house parties, clubs and of course, Parliament concerts.  And not just in Cleveland, this phenomenon has hit every city the band has performed in and even those they have not.  The movement is carried across the airwaves of local radio stations.

            “Sure, you know how black kids are, they know what’s hip.  My reward is to go out on that stage and see those flashlights.”

            Parliament-Funkadelic relies heavily on their stage show to keep their fans satisfied.  Their show is one of the most expensive staged by a black act.  “In the past, black have been screwed as far as concerts go.  Since they never go see white shows, they don’t know what they’re missing even though they pay the same ticket prices.”

            The lavishness of the show billed “The Second Landing of The Mothership” forces the band to charge $8 to $9 a ticket to break even.  Clinton knows how expensive it is for young people to go to live concerts.  “Sometimes we only make $1,000 after a show.”

            A grand show is necessary for one to be considered a top act.  He says, “Earth, Wind & Fire has gotten together a bigger show because black concertgoers want more for their money.”  And he warns that The Commodores are going to have to get their act together if they want to be big.

            Even though they’re a big act now, many people think of Parliament-Funkadelic as the ghetto blacks’ Earth, Wind & Fire, to which the head of the Funk Mob says, “That’s just where we want to stay.  If we wanted to, we could really be bigger.  By crossing over on the musical charts we could surpass many groups and be live and EW&F.  Clinton thinks they have left the blacks in the ghetto and are playing white music now.  “Don’t tell anybody he confided, “But my boys EW&F can’t even dance.”

            Remember when Diana Ross was the lead singer with The Supremes, she was the queen of the ghetto, and look at her now.  Well not the white kids look to the Stones and black kids look to Parliament.

            The success of Parliament-Funkadelic is directly responsible for bringing about Bootsy Collins’ fame.  “We had to force Bootsy down the throat of promoters.  We said, ‘no Bootsy, no Parliament.’  We couldn’t even find a record company for the Rubberband.”  Of course, the Clinton-Collins produced band has went on to become headliners in their own right and Clinton doesn’t know whether it’s luck or he’s being guided by some outside force.

            In the near future Clinton will put to test two new groups, Parlet and The Brides of Funkenstein, the latter whose album he was finishing up at the time of our talk.

            The Parliament-Funkadelic has their sights on being a multi-media band.  They have one film finished and being edited presently for release in May or June. However, Clinton’s real gem project is a serious science-fiction film, which they have the script for.  “We need $10 million to do it, and we could get it today.  But the stipulations attached to the money we don’t need.  We have to be cautious of every move we make.”

            The man who started the “Thing” in his barbershop two decades ago senses his group Parliament is on the verge of becoming superstars.  And when asked why the group has received little recognition from peers in the form of Grammy Awards and such he replies, “If I wrote songs with winning a Grammy in mind and then didn’t get one, I’d have a nervous breakdown.  Anyway, that’s part of the syndrome.  I’d love to have, but if I won it, I wouldn’t go there in person to get it.”

            People think of his group as underdogs and never expect anyone save for a Stevie Wonder or Earth Wind & Fire to win awards in the black categories.  He agreed saying, “The music industry only focuses on certain people.  They’re using Stevie Wonder, but he won’t play along with it.  That’s why he gives his awards to other people and makes long speeches.  It’s all politics.”

            For George Clinton, rewards come in different forms.  For him, “The biggest reward or supreme compliment comes when someone imitates you.  A cat like George Duke who I know is bad does “Reach for It”—you can’t tell me that record doesn’t make you want to dance.  Anyway, anyone who sounds like us has to sound good.  But I don’t have time to worry about things like that because it takes too much energy and Dr. Funkenstein needs his energy.”

            The next Parliament album’s concept is already formed, and the head mentor of funk says, “If you sit down and think about it, you’ll see it’s a natural progression from the present album.  But I won’t tell what it is because it’s a secret.”

            With a reminder to watch out for future funk projects from other P-funk musicians like keyboardist Bernie Worrell and the original Parliaments Fuzzy Haskins, Calvin Simon and Grady Thomas.  There is also a new Funkadelics disc on the way.  The good doctor said, “Syndrome, tweedle dee dum, dum dum don’t succumb.”

About the author

Charlotte Morgan is a writer who was born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio where she has been fortunate to teach First-Year English at her Alma mater Cleveland State University. She has led Non-Fiction workshops around town in the hopes of helping others find their voice. As a writer, from time to time, her work investigates the black experience in the urban pastoral in the hopes of understanding not only why her ancestors were brought to the States but what was their destiny and purpose here. Her aim is to rob the graveyard of her insights, and ideas so that future generations have access. As a longtime journalist, her use of literary reportage has been influenced by the works of New Journalism writers like Tom Wolfe, Truman Capote, Joan Didion, Hunter S. Thompson and Cameron Crowe.  She seeks to skillfully capture images and dialogue which enlivens her prose.  

Excerpt from None of My Idols Were Worth Worship. Copyright 2020© MorganWorks.  

@morganwriter (Twitter and Instagram) 

Black and Almost Famous

Cover courtesy of Cleveland Public Library Digital Archives. 

CHAPTER XV: Dream Merchant Number 5

(from None of My Idols Were Worth Worship)

Those years spent in the Fine Arts Department of the Cleveland Public Library is where I read biographies and screenplays. In them, I dreamed of the life of a Hollywood screenwriter and novelist. There were moments when I imagined that I could be writer, producer, and director. Books fed dreams.  

Writer and director, Billy Wilder’s biography struck me as fascinating because he like another favorite screenwriter, Joseph Mankiewicz, worked as newspaper reporters. At first, I struggled to make the connection between journalism and Hollywood, but reading countless Hollywood biographies of screenwriters and directors, I discovered that I was on the right track with my journalism interest since for many famous screenwriters it was where they began.

This meant that I valued my time as one because I hoped it would lead to my becoming a screenwriter even when I knew my family or friends could not understand my thirst to see my name in print. Reading one of my articles made me forget about how far I would have to go to become a famous author—it encouraged me. Most valuable to me about being a reporter was the ability to produce words. Deadlines were intoxicating for me—sitting in the newsroom with other reporters allowed me to be myself at a time when I was losing my identity to drugs and activities that detracted from my plans. Walking over a friends’ house to get high when I could stay home and write was a waste of my time, but that was the part of me that had surrendered. Before, I never missed a deadline.

There was a photo column which my editor, Ollie Bell-Bey expected me to produce weekly and I used the paper’s Nikon 35 mm camera to make money on the side shooting photos of a drug dealer who fancied himself a model; or of couples, or girls who wanted to be models. That money went towards buying books, albums, or of course, concert tickets. Since my father had retired, he took up photography which meant there was darkroom equipment at the house. My father taught me how to process black and white Kodak film. He took me up to the bathroom, a makeshift darkroom where he taught me how to print photos—I had a lucrative side business. My photos earned me a Journalism Award at the end of the school year. The newspaper was a home for me, a place where I was happy which might not be all together true, because I at the time knew nothing about that emotion. Driven by the desire to be a writer, I wanted to move beyond getting high and hanging out with people who had no ambition. So, I kept my clippings in a scrapbook ready for opportunity. And when the day came, and I was prepared.

*****

Scene Magazine offices were on Huron Road. After bouncing down the stairs, I was disappointed to see how small the space looked. There was a receptionist or secretary who greeted me. She was nice. But I was stuck on the size of this place—this was the regions’ largest entertainment publication. Mark Kmetzko greeted me and brought into his cramped office where I sat in a chair ready to show someone that I was a real writer, but my feet barely touched the floor.

I became nervous. The space shrank because the walls cluttered with covers from the magazine, album covers, and posters of everyone from Mott the Hoople, Paul McCartney, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young and told the story of the magazine aesthetic made me doubt for a moment that I was good enough.

Across the desk from me was, an editor for Cleveland Scene Magazine. He had a nice hair and a wonderful mustache. Almost more important than the interview or the posters on the wall or the albums on his shelves was the IBM Selectric typewriter he had on his desk. It was my dream machine—I had imagined writing my first novel on one and had never seen one up close.

I was in Mark’s office because he had called me to come down because I had answered an advertisement. As I relaxed, I realized that Mark wanted to hire me.

They were looking for a music reviewer. My friends had no I idea that I had gotten together a few clippings, put them in an envelope along with a letter and mailed them off. I had forgotten about applying for the job when I got the call. This was my first professional newspaper job interview. I had a chance to become a music journalist like Cameron Crowe who worked for Rolling Stone Magazine, or Lester Bangs who worked for CREEM Magazine.  Now I could hang out at Swingo’s with the other rock journalists.

My review of The Wiz soundtrack produced by Quincy Jones. I grew up listening to soundtracks
because my father, a jazz musician, arranger, and composer made a practice of doing so.
As his daughter, I listened to what he had in his collection. And Quincy Jones was one of his
favorite composers. My father went so far as to pose in front of his stereo system a la Quincy.
It was reviewing this soundtrack and others that enabled me to use what I had learned as a kid.

In my folder was a review of the Minnie Riperton concert at Music Hall. I had my review of the electrifying Labelle concert at the Allen Theater. I had also shot photos of singer Patti Labelle flapping her black wings as she descended from the rafters dressed in all silver—a Larry LeGaspi design according to a Village Voice article. During my interview, I planned on talking about my exclusive interview with activist-actress Jane Fonda and her then husband Tom Hayden. While I was a journalism and political science major at the Metro Campus, I was a quick learner who could write music reviews, after all my father was a musician and all I had been commenting

Mark was a long-haired hippie type. He wasn’t tall, but when he shook my hand, I looked up and realized that he appeared long—he had tucked his salmon colored long john shirt into his low-riding blue bell-bottom jeans, which made his legs appear lengthy.  He tucked his brown hair behind his ears. His walrus mustache needed no trimming.

I watched his lips move. I can’t remember what he said. He talked for a time and then took me to a large room down the hall from his office.  Inside the room were stacks and stacks of albums. I knelt down on the floor and began to browse.

Mark gave me some instructions. After our meeting, I took my spoils and walked back up the stairs and out to Euclid Avenue.  I boarded the bus home. The buildings went past in a blur as I looked out the window. When I got home, I went down into the basement and started work. I had my Royal typewriter set up on the coffee table along with a bottle of white out and a stack of typing paper. My stack of music magazines would serve as a guide but also inspiration for the task-at-hand. I worked for Scene Magazine.

Within a few hours, I had missed dinner but produced three record reviews. The next day, when I got out of school, I took my work down to the office. Mark was shocked that I had turned around my work so quickly.  The training I learned as a staff writer had prepared me to write copy quickly. We often got an assignment and had to cover it that afternoon. I’d grab my white and green Reporters’ Notebook, a camera and a couple of rolls of black and white film and head off to an event. Our copy was always due on Tuesdays by noon; film on Wednesdays because our paper came out on Fridays. On deadline days, the office was crowded with reporters banging away on Underwood typewriters. I had grown to love that sound. A few weeks passed, Mark called me and asked me did I want to interview Brook Benton, a singer-songwriter. I said, sure. I had reviewed Brook’s album, which was actually the first piece I had published in the magazine.  

About the author

Charlotte Morgan is a writer who was born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio where she has been fortunate to teach First-Year English at her Alma mater Cleveland State University. She has led Non-Fiction workshops around town in the hopes of helping others find their voice. As a writer, from time to time, her work investigates the black experience in the urban pastoral in the hopes of understanding not only why her ancestors were brought to the States but what was their destiny and purpose here. Her aim is to rob the graveyard of her insights, and ideas so that future generations have access. As a longtime journalist, her use of literary reportage has been influenced by the works of New Journalism writers like Tom Wolfe, Truman Capote, Joan Didion, Hunter S. Thompson and Cameron Crowe.  She seeks to skillfully capture images and dialogue which enlivens her prose.  

Excerpt from None of My Idols Were Worth Worship. Copyright 2020© MorganWorks.  

@morganwriter (Twitter and Instagram)