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The Wonders of Live Music, part 2 – ‘Mothership Connection (Star Child)' by Parliament
The Wonders of Live Music, part 2 – ‘Mothership Connection (Star Child)' by Parliament
The Wonders of Live Music, part 2 – ‘Mothership Connection (Star Child)' by Parliament
Parliament’s 1975 album Mothership Connection begins with two of the most enthralling tracks of Parliament-Funkadelic’s bulging catalogue. ‘P-Funk (Wants To Get Funked Up)’—where George Clinton welcomes us to ‘We-Funk’, the radio show from space—is followed by the almost-title track, ‘Mothership Connection (Star Child)’.
On the latter, Clinton introduces Star Child, described in his autobiography Brothas Be Yo, Like George, Ain’t That Funkin’ Kinda Hard on You? as “an alien who brought funk to Earth.” The band have come to “reclaim the pyramids”.
Clinton’s vocals on ‘Star Child’ were inspired by the pre-hip-hop raps of the Last Poets and voices such as Frankie Crocker, Rod Serling, Lord Buckley and Wolfman Jack. He viewed Mothership’s music as “pirate radio coming in from outer space”.
Mothership was an early work of Afrofuturism: P-Funk’s concept albums from this period were about “putting black people in situations nobody ever thought they would be in,” Clinton has said. Parliament had conceived of a black president with Chocolate City, released earlier the same year. Now, Clinton “figured another place you wouldn’t think black people would be was in outer space.”
The track is Parliament at their finest: Earth-shakingingly funky bass from Bootsy Collins, marvellous horn melodies courtesy of a brass section led by Fred Wesley, and otherworldly keyboard riffs from Bernie Worrell – all wrapped up in Clinton’s P-Funk mythology and sprinkled with feel-good quips (“Let me put on my sunglasses here, so I can see what I’m doing”).
From the very first second, there's heavy emphasis on the One – the first beat of each bar. With the One, James Brown transformed soul into funk, and after Parliament-Funkadelic absorbed many of James Brown’s musicians—including Bootsy, Wesley and Maceo Parker—as well as adding Michael and Randy Brecker, they started making irresistibly danceable music.
Clinton has said, “Bootsy came along and all he added—all we had to add—was the emphasis on the One.” Parliament had always had danceable tracks, ever since their 1970 debut Osmium, but their earliest music was a world away from the almighty funk they would be making five years later. Once Bootsy brought the One, “everything we did was funky.”
Describing the importance of the One, Bootsy himself remarked, “When you got it right it was such a strong foundation, you could do anything else you liked.” As long as he emphasised the One, he was free to express himself in between.
The verses’ horn melodies lead you to that crucial beat – they’re a marvel in themselves, but along with the guitar lines (variations of Bootsy’s bass) they’re pointing the way to the first beat of each bar.
The Mothership album took Parliament’s focus on brass to another level. Wesley led a magnificent horn section of Parker, the Brecker brothers, Boom, and Joe Farrell. Wesley and Worrell’s arrangements on Mothership and its follow-up, The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein, were the peak of P-Funk horns.
Worrell’s keyboard lines give ‘Star Child’ an eery, entrancing quality midway through the track in the bridge, and later in the outro. Many years later these sections would become the basis of Dr. Dre’s ‘Let Me Ride’.
Clinton wrote of Worrell, “Bernie was a musical genius. Everyone could tell that within seconds.” Before he was part of the band, Clinton and co. had heard “how he was a local Mozart who wrote his first symphony before he was in junior high school, how he could do anything from Ray Charles to classical music.” Worrell expanded the P-Funk vocabulary, enabling them to tread into jazz, classical and gospel.
The chorus of ‘Star Child’ contains perhaps the album’s finest vocal melody. “If you hear any noise, it’s just me and the boys / Hit me. You gotta hit the band.” Glen Goins’ unrushed, cool delivery belies the undeniable bounciness of the music, helping to form something that’s both rhythmically intense and laid back.
‘Star Child’’s bridge is built around the chorus of an African American spiritual song, ‘Swing Down Sweet Chariot’. Before those lyrics are introduced, slightly darker, foreboding horns give a different feel to what is up until that point a purely upbeat track. It’s another brilliantly catchy section, and the temporary departure enhances the verse and chorus grooves when they return.
It’s not clear who played drums on ‘Star Child’, with Mothership’s liner notes crediting Tiki Fulwood, Jerome Brailey, Bootsy, and Gary Cooper for ‘drums and percussion’. But whoever’s laying down the beat deserves credit for keeping the ball rolling in an unhurried yet propulsive fashion. Through its various moods and intensities, the song never quite lets up. Even when the space-based instrumentation could otherwise feel like it was wandering, the drums keep everyone on track. The fill at around the 2:50 mark moves everything forward towards the next chorus.
Parliament delivered an epic, soul-quenching version of ‘Star Child’ when they played Houston in 1976.
The show was their fifth of the P-Funk Earth Tour. Led by Parker, the band rehearsed with “professionalism and commitment, that was, at least in our history, unprecedented,” wrote Clinton. After debuting the Mothership in New Orleans, they learned that it was “impossible to follow the ship,” so it started landing later on in the show.
During a near ninety-minute set, the band are impeccably tight. ‘Star Child’’s guitar and bass riffs are locked in, and the drum fills feel like they could be lifted and looped a thousand times for studio tracks.
Goins stars here, delivering a stunning vocal performance. The bridge leads not into more verses, as on the studio version, but is repeated and eventually climaxes with the Mothership landing on stage. Clinton wrote of Goins, “Glen was particularly important for the Mothership—we needed his strong gospel vocals to call the ship down from the heavens to the stage.”
Clinton’s own vocals have an intensity that gives the song a different character to the studio recording. His voice is deep with a harshness here, and at times he verges on growling. Choosing to all but abandon the smooth DJ persona, Clinton ramps up the song’s intensity, even way before the climax.
Leading Goins into his last verse before the bridge, Clinton’s call of “Hey Glen!” seems to ignite the latter. Only about ten seconds previously, Goins has stepped away from his mic during a chorus to inhale a bandmate’s exhale of weed smoke. For most of the song he appears laid back but showcases a wonderful range of tones and pitches, at times matching Clinton’s urgency. At 5:17, Clinton’s “Raise your hand!” couldn’t be further away from Goins’ velvet-smooth lines. When Goins is readying the ship’s descent, his “Do you wanna fly, Houston? Do y’all wanna fly?” cries are beautifully soft. Moments later, he nails an urgent “Houston! Do you wanna ride, y’all?”
Soon after the Mothership appears, the horns are played with fervor and force, showing none of the restrain of the studio track.
Describing the Mothership, Clinton wrote, “it was all I had hoped for and more. It looked like some kind of unholy cross between an American car from the late fifties and early sixties, a piece of equipment from a children’s playground, and a giant insect. It was awesome.”
The album and tour was perhaps P-Funk at their best. Their stellar musicianship and wide imaginations allowed them to create music that contained both danceability and subtlety, both conceptualism and a whole lot of fun.
Parliament’s 1975 album Mothership Connection begins with two of the most enthralling tracks of Parliament-Funkadelic’s bulging catalogue. ‘P-Funk (Wants To Get Funked Up)’—where George Clinton welcomes us to ‘We-Funk’, the radio show from space—is followed by the almost-title track, ‘Mothership Connection (Star Child)’.
On the latter, Clinton introduces Star Child, described in his autobiography Brothas Be Yo, Like George, Ain’t That Funkin’ Kinda Hard on You? as “an alien who brought funk to Earth.” The band have come to “reclaim the pyramids”.
Clinton’s vocals on ‘Star Child’ were inspired by the pre-hip-hop raps of the Last Poets and voices such as Frankie Crocker, Rod Serling, Lord Buckley and Wolfman Jack. He viewed Mothership’s music as “pirate radio coming in from outer space”.
Mothership was an early work of Afrofuturism: P-Funk’s concept albums from this period were about “putting black people in situations nobody ever thought they would be in,” Clinton has said. Parliament had conceived of a black president with Chocolate City, released earlier the same year. Now, Clinton “figured another place you wouldn’t think black people would be was in outer space.”
The track is Parliament at their finest: Earth-shakingingly funky bass from Bootsy Collins, marvellous horn melodies courtesy of a brass section led by Fred Wesley, and otherworldly keyboard riffs from Bernie Worrell – all wrapped up in Clinton’s P-Funk mythology and sprinkled with feel-good quips (“Let me put on my sunglasses here, so I can see what I’m doing”).
From the very first second, there's heavy emphasis on the One – the first beat of each bar. With the One, James Brown transformed soul into funk, and after Parliament-Funkadelic absorbed many of James Brown’s musicians—including Bootsy, Wesley and Maceo Parker—as well as adding Michael and Randy Brecker, they started making irresistibly danceable music.
Clinton has said, “Bootsy came along and all he added—all we had to add—was the emphasis on the One.” Parliament had always had danceable tracks, ever since their 1970 debut Osmium, but their earliest music was a world away from the almighty funk they would be making five years later. Once Bootsy brought the One, “everything we did was funky.”
Describing the importance of the One, Bootsy himself remarked, “When you got it right it was such a strong foundation, you could do anything else you liked.” As long as he emphasised the One, he was free to express himself in between.
The verses’ horn melodies lead you to that crucial beat – they’re a marvel in themselves, but along with the guitar lines (variations of Bootsy’s bass) they’re pointing the way to the first beat of each bar.
The Mothership album took Parliament’s focus on brass to another level. Wesley led a magnificent horn section of Parker, the Brecker brothers, Boom, and Joe Farrell. Wesley and Worrell’s arrangements on Mothership and its follow-up, The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein, were the peak of P-Funk horns.
Worrell’s keyboard lines give ‘Star Child’ an eery, entrancing quality midway through the track in the bridge, and later in the outro. Many years later these sections would become the basis of Dr. Dre’s ‘Let Me Ride’.
Clinton wrote of Worrell, “Bernie was a musical genius. Everyone could tell that within seconds.” Before he was part of the band, Clinton and co. had heard “how he was a local Mozart who wrote his first symphony before he was in junior high school, how he could do anything from Ray Charles to classical music.” Worrell expanded the P-Funk vocabulary, enabling them to tread into jazz, classical and gospel.
The chorus of ‘Star Child’ contains perhaps the album’s finest vocal melody. “If you hear any noise, it’s just me and the boys / Hit me. You gotta hit the band.” Glen Goins’ unrushed, cool delivery belies the undeniable bounciness of the music, helping to form something that’s both rhythmically intense and laid back.
‘Star Child’’s bridge is built around the chorus of an African American spiritual song, ‘Swing Down Sweet Chariot’. Before those lyrics are introduced, slightly darker, foreboding horns give a different feel to what is up until that point a purely upbeat track. It’s another brilliantly catchy section, and the temporary departure enhances the verse and chorus grooves when they return.
It’s not clear who played drums on ‘Star Child’, with Mothership’s liner notes crediting Tiki Fulwood, Jerome Brailey, Bootsy, and Gary Cooper for ‘drums and percussion’. But whoever’s laying down the beat deserves credit for keeping the ball rolling in an unhurried yet propulsive fashion. Through its various moods and intensities, the song never quite lets up. Even when the space-based instrumentation could otherwise feel like it was wandering, the drums keep everyone on track. The fill at around the 2:50 mark moves everything forward towards the next chorus.
Parliament delivered an epic, soul-quenching version of ‘Star Child’ when they played Houston in 1976.
The show was their fifth of the P-Funk Earth Tour. Led by Parker, the band rehearsed with “professionalism and commitment, that was, at least in our history, unprecedented,” wrote Clinton. After debuting the Mothership in New Orleans, they learned that it was “impossible to follow the ship,” so it started landing later on in the show.
During a near ninety-minute set, the band are impeccably tight. ‘Star Child’’s guitar and bass riffs are locked in, and the drum fills feel like they could be lifted and looped a thousand times for studio tracks.
Goins stars here, delivering a stunning vocal performance. The bridge leads not into more verses, as on the studio version, but is repeated and eventually climaxes with the Mothership landing on stage. Clinton wrote of Goins, “Glen was particularly important for the Mothership—we needed his strong gospel vocals to call the ship down from the heavens to the stage.”
Clinton’s own vocals have an intensity that gives the song a different character to the studio recording. His voice is deep with a harshness here, and at times he verges on growling. Choosing to all but abandon the smooth DJ persona, Clinton ramps up the song’s intensity, even way before the climax.
Leading Goins into his last verse before the bridge, Clinton’s call of “Hey Glen!” seems to ignite the latter. Only about ten seconds previously, Goins has stepped away from his mic during a chorus to inhale a bandmate’s exhale of weed smoke. For most of the song he appears laid back but showcases a wonderful range of tones and pitches, at times matching Clinton’s urgency. At 5:17, Clinton’s “Raise your hand!” couldn’t be further away from Goins’ velvet-smooth lines. When Goins is readying the ship’s descent, his “Do you wanna fly, Houston? Do y’all wanna fly?” cries are beautifully soft. Moments later, he nails an urgent “Houston! Do you wanna ride, y’all?”
Soon after the Mothership appears, the horns are played with fervor and force, showing none of the restrain of the studio track.
Describing the Mothership, Clinton wrote, “it was all I had hoped for and more. It looked like some kind of unholy cross between an American car from the late fifties and early sixties, a piece of equipment from a children’s playground, and a giant insect. It was awesome.”
The album and tour was perhaps P-Funk at their best. Their stellar musicianship and wide imaginations allowed them to create music that contained both danceability and subtlety, both conceptualism and a whole lot of fun.
Parliament’s 1975 album Mothership Connection begins with two of the most enthralling tracks of Parliament-Funkadelic’s bulging catalogue. ‘P-Funk (Wants To Get Funked Up)’—where George Clinton welcomes us to ‘We-Funk’, the radio show from space—is followed by the almost-title track, ‘Mothership Connection (Star Child)’.
On the latter, Clinton introduces Star Child, described in his autobiography Brothas Be Yo, Like George, Ain’t That Funkin’ Kinda Hard on You? as “an alien who brought funk to Earth.” The band have come to “reclaim the pyramids”.
Clinton’s vocals on ‘Star Child’ were inspired by the pre-hip-hop raps of the Last Poets and voices such as Frankie Crocker, Rod Serling, Lord Buckley and Wolfman Jack. He viewed Mothership’s music as “pirate radio coming in from outer space”.
Mothership was an early work of Afrofuturism: P-Funk’s concept albums from this period were about “putting black people in situations nobody ever thought they would be in,” Clinton has said. Parliament had conceived of a black president with Chocolate City, released earlier the same year. Now, Clinton “figured another place you wouldn’t think black people would be was in outer space.”
The track is Parliament at their finest: Earth-shakingingly funky bass from Bootsy Collins, marvellous horn melodies courtesy of a brass section led by Fred Wesley, and otherworldly keyboard riffs from Bernie Worrell – all wrapped up in Clinton’s P-Funk mythology and sprinkled with feel-good quips (“Let me put on my sunglasses here, so I can see what I’m doing”).
From the very first second, there's heavy emphasis on the One – the first beat of each bar. With the One, James Brown transformed soul into funk, and after Parliament-Funkadelic absorbed many of James Brown’s musicians—including Bootsy, Wesley and Maceo Parker—as well as adding Michael and Randy Brecker, they started making irresistibly danceable music.
Clinton has said, “Bootsy came along and all he added—all we had to add—was the emphasis on the One.” Parliament had always had danceable tracks, ever since their 1970 debut Osmium, but their earliest music was a world away from the almighty funk they would be making five years later. Once Bootsy brought the One, “everything we did was funky.”
Describing the importance of the One, Bootsy himself remarked, “When you got it right it was such a strong foundation, you could do anything else you liked.” As long as he emphasised the One, he was free to express himself in between.
The verses’ horn melodies lead you to that crucial beat – they’re a marvel in themselves, but along with the guitar lines (variations of Bootsy’s bass) they’re pointing the way to the first beat of each bar.
The Mothership album took Parliament’s focus on brass to another level. Wesley led a magnificent horn section of Parker, the Brecker brothers, Boom, and Joe Farrell. Wesley and Worrell’s arrangements on Mothership and its follow-up, The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein, were the peak of P-Funk horns.
Worrell’s keyboard lines give ‘Star Child’ an eery, entrancing quality midway through the track in the bridge, and later in the outro. Many years later these sections would become the basis of Dr. Dre’s ‘Let Me Ride’.
Clinton wrote of Worrell, “Bernie was a musical genius. Everyone could tell that within seconds.” Before he was part of the band, Clinton and co. had heard “how he was a local Mozart who wrote his first symphony before he was in junior high school, how he could do anything from Ray Charles to classical music.” Worrell expanded the P-Funk vocabulary, enabling them to tread into jazz, classical and gospel.
The chorus of ‘Star Child’ contains perhaps the album’s finest vocal melody. “If you hear any noise, it’s just me and the boys / Hit me. You gotta hit the band.” Glen Goins’ unrushed, cool delivery belies the undeniable bounciness of the music, helping to form something that’s both rhythmically intense and laid back.
‘Star Child’’s bridge is built around the chorus of an African American spiritual song, ‘Swing Down Sweet Chariot’. Before those lyrics are introduced, slightly darker, foreboding horns give a different feel to what is up until that point a purely upbeat track. It’s another brilliantly catchy section, and the temporary departure enhances the verse and chorus grooves when they return.
It’s not clear who played drums on ‘Star Child’, with Mothership’s liner notes crediting Tiki Fulwood, Jerome Brailey, Bootsy, and Gary Cooper for ‘drums and percussion’. But whoever’s laying down the beat deserves credit for keeping the ball rolling in an unhurried yet propulsive fashion. Through its various moods and intensities, the song never quite lets up. Even when the space-based instrumentation could otherwise feel like it was wandering, the drums keep everyone on track. The fill at around the 2:50 mark moves everything forward towards the next chorus.
Parliament delivered an epic, soul-quenching version of ‘Star Child’ when they played Houston in 1976.
The show was their fifth of the P-Funk Earth Tour. Led by Parker, the band rehearsed with “professionalism and commitment, that was, at least in our history, unprecedented,” wrote Clinton. After debuting the Mothership in New Orleans, they learned that it was “impossible to follow the ship,” so it started landing later on in the show.
During a near ninety-minute set, the band are impeccably tight. ‘Star Child’’s guitar and bass riffs are locked in, and the drum fills feel like they could be lifted and looped a thousand times for studio tracks.
Goins stars here, delivering a stunning vocal performance. The bridge leads not into more verses, as on the studio version, but is repeated and eventually climaxes with the Mothership landing on stage. Clinton wrote of Goins, “Glen was particularly important for the Mothership—we needed his strong gospel vocals to call the ship down from the heavens to the stage.”
Clinton’s own vocals have an intensity that gives the song a different character to the studio recording. His voice is deep with a harshness here, and at times he verges on growling. Choosing to all but abandon the smooth DJ persona, Clinton ramps up the song’s intensity, even way before the climax.
Leading Goins into his last verse before the bridge, Clinton’s call of “Hey Glen!” seems to ignite the latter. Only about ten seconds previously, Goins has stepped away from his mic during a chorus to inhale a bandmate’s exhale of weed smoke. For most of the song he appears laid back but showcases a wonderful range of tones and pitches, at times matching Clinton’s urgency. At 5:17, Clinton’s “Raise your hand!” couldn’t be further away from Goins’ velvet-smooth lines. When Goins is readying the ship’s descent, his “Do you wanna fly, Houston? Do y’all wanna fly?” cries are beautifully soft. Moments later, he nails an urgent “Houston! Do you wanna ride, y’all?”
Soon after the Mothership appears, the horns are played with fervor and force, showing none of the restrain of the studio track.
Describing the Mothership, Clinton wrote, “it was all I had hoped for and more. It looked like some kind of unholy cross between an American car from the late fifties and early sixties, a piece of equipment from a children’s playground, and a giant insect. It was awesome.”
The album and tour was perhaps P-Funk at their best. Their stellar musicianship and wide imaginations allowed them to create music that contained both danceability and subtlety, both conceptualism and a whole lot of fun.