Too Funky For Burning Man
We at The Dope Report live in close accordance with The Funk. And of course by Funk, we are talking about all of the various meanings and states of being that can be applied to this wondrous word. Come two Sundays ago at Black Rock City, Nevada, we were really feeling The Funk on all levels. We were covered with The Funk and were ready to rock the turntables with all that funkiness drunk with a weeks worth of the high desert sun, covered in sweat and sipping Tanqueray and grapefruit mixed with lots of ice and the ever present dash of playa dust.
DJs roam around the city looking for open sound systems, plug in and play music. Big sound camps have set schedules but renegade parties can start up at any given time and place and we were invited to play a day party at The Ant Farm on 2:45 and Biology, an inviting, well built and nicely shaded establishment on the edge of town. A mediocre DJ spinning some dark breaks and dubstep was playing when we showed up to the spot. There was a full bar with all your top shelf varieties – drinks of course are free folks – so we hung out, got lit, let homeboy finish his set and set up our computer to the mixer (records really take a beating out there.) Just before we went on, the crowd starting to build with eager faces looking to dance, a very nasty woman by the name of Candy Ass approached and warned us that we were at a funk camp 14 years in the making and if we started to play some house or “crazy 4 am music,” we would be kicked off the decks. Her vibe was really aggressive and out of place. But never mind the drug twisted wannabe goddess, playing funk is never a problem, it’s a guarantee.
We got the funk and we know funk when we hear it, have no doubts. We kick it off with some funky breaks full of slap bass and then a little Prince “Kiss,” and some Chicken Lips “Motion Sickness,.” Then a special tribute with some disco house mashups of Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean,” girls are taking refuge from the dust storm, the gain gets turned up and a proper party was taking form. Suddenly, Miss Candy Ass storms onto the dance floor and kills the sound. Her reason, “you guys are not funky enough.” Our mouths drop with confusion, “not funky enough, you mean to tell us Michael Jackson is not funk?” “No, this is a funk camp and Michael Jackson is not funk.”
Not only were we speechless but actually quite offended – this is only a week after what would have been MJ’s 51st birthday and Burning Man is a Virgo party mind you. She proceeded to kick us off the stage and replace us with some wack ass funky hip hop track on an I Pod that sounded like shit, the speakers popping and hissing from a bad connection then fucking Bob Dylan comes on at “The Funk Camp” and everyone looks sad and leaves the bar including us.
This was one weird trip to lay on The Dope Report and Candy Ass from The Ant Farm needs to check herself and for once in your meager monomaniacal life, stop trying to control forces beyond your understanding and leave The Funk to us!
