Imagine there’s nothing funny about the 1980s. Block out your referential nostalgia, your tendency to make punchlines out of Cazals and keytars. Unlearn everything you know about Stock-Aitken-Waterman and gated drums and the synthesizers in “The Final Countdown”. Try to think about how the music of the era might’ve sounded to you if you were experiencing it for the first time, without any knowledge of where or when it was made.
Now you’re ready to listen to Dâm-Funk. One of Stones Throw’s recent breakthrough stars, L.A.’s Damon Riddick spent the 90s as a session keyboardist for assorted New Jack Swing and hip-hop acts (most prominently on the soundtrack to Master P’s I Got the Hook-Up), and lately has parlayed his love for music into a popular 80s boogie/funk DJ night, Funkmosphere, at the Venice Boulevard club Carbon. His recent work reflects a confluence of these two bullet points on his résumé, as he jumps from retro-novel intrigue (2008’s “Burgundy City” b/w “Galactic Fun”) to indie-crossover remix buzz (his incredible transformation of Animal Collective’s “Summertime Clothes”) to the ambitious sprawl of a five-part debut album series, intended as a mission statement for what he calls “modern funk.”
That series has been pared down to the 2xCD, 140-minute collection Toeachizown, which shares the name of the collection from which it draws. It’s your call how best to experience this stuff; each individual volume of the original Toeachizown series has its own thematic undercurrent (“Hood”, “Life”, “Sky”, etc.) and its own strengths, but this condensed aggregation pares it down to a manageable, cohesive 24-track introduction at the cost of editing down a couple of the songs. Either way, you’ve got a thorough rundown of Dâm-Funk’s repertoire this year, which, even in its pared-down form, is an absurdly prolific output– apparently it would’ve come out sooner, but the man couldn’t stop recording new tracks for it.
Anyone with a thing for g-funk should find instant geek-out recognition in this music, a garage-bound DIY love letter to the post-Worrell musical diaspora that covers everything from Roger Troutman’s eternal bounce to the cosmic jazz crossover of the Clarke/Duke Project. In between, you get slow-ride R&B jams (“One Less Day”; “I Wanna Thank You For [Steppin Into My Life]”), grooves that toy with the more prog- and fusion-influenced corners of funk (“Flying V Ride”), post-disco dance music (“Candy Dancin'”), proto-electro (“Keep Lookin’ 2 the Sky”), and just about anything else you might’ve heard on the SOLAR label 25 years ago. There are nods to the retrofitting treatment that the cream of late-70s/early-80s Moog funk underwent once DJ Quik and Dr. Dre got ahold of it; “Killdat aka Killdatmuthafu*ka” actually sounds a bit more like 1992 than 1983, all sinister chords and bop-gun percussion.
But calling Dâm-Funk’s music straight-up throwback nostalgia only skirts what’s really appealing about it. For the first minute or so, you might dredge up some roller-rink memories, but once that groove sets in– granite-thick Moog bass coupled with drum machine breaks so propulsive their physical impetus overrides their mechanicalness– it starts transcending historical allusions and becomes all about structure and groove, about how just plain fucking great fat Roland basslines and Oberheim kick drums sound together. That’s about when you get waylaid by one of Riddick’s solos– fluttering and unpredictable, often flowing more like something that might come out of a free jazz sax or an acid rock guitar than a funk synthesizer. It’s the secret weapon that underscores how seriously he takes this stuff, the catalyst that should provoke listeners to realize this music isn’t just a fun update of a classic sound– it’s a work of real transcendence.
This isn’t a comedic tribute to talkboxes and widebrims; there’s no Snoop Dogg descending a foggy staircase through a faded VHS haze here. Toeachizown is a deep, astute collection that feels like a natural resuscitation and progression of funk as it stood just before hip hop usurped it. Much in the same way that Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings transform from a reenactment of a circa ’66 soul revue to a distinct set of musical personalities the more you listen to them, Dâm-Funk uses all his vintage equipment as a medium to express his own voice, tucking a lot of stealthy forward progress and experimental tendencies between the notes. Chortle at that keytar all you want– he can still make it sound like the future.
— Nate Patrin, December 2, 2009