The Funk that can be told

Sean I. Robin
December 2022

The Funk that can be told

The funk that can be told
is not the eternal funk
But to sing, to dance and play, to make love to the flowers in spring,
even to get lost in a book – what other embodiment of joy and wonder do you need?
If the funk is not in these things, then the ever renewing spirit of life
has already taken on a new name and this ballad is old news
Names are like leaders in that they are always destined to be a few steps behind
the All that is really happening
The only funk that need concern us is the one that crawls up on our own doorstep
– this one will prove to be good and sweet enough in the moment that it lasts

Naming it and holding onto it may prove difficult and perhaps unwanted
Those who seek eternal expressions and monuments may be of the temperament
to prefer Beethoven over Franklin – that is, Aretha Franklin of course
Our subject is rather a song of sassy skirts and dazzling movement that fits not
well into marble or proclamations – it’s true kernel flits and swims between the
lines as much as in them

Still in these pages we seek a little of that ethno-philo of melody and style
To question and transport us to the source and imprint of this thing called the funk
and rhythm and blues, and its cousin forms of indigenous expression on the lands

We must speak in black and white for a moment, even though we know
the Soul only lives in Technicolor

Somebody plugged in James Brown and that was it!
But we are getting ahead of our story
He was not the first – he just let us know that we had arrived.
There was no Father of Jazz or Mother of the Funk that can be named
This Mystery just seemed to cross the Gates onto Earthe
at the dawn of the Age of the Machine
Like the rain that comes down from the Heavens in relief
after a muggy day when the clouds have been all swollen
There was no father or mother
only a mess of pioneer performers that emerged amidst the people
just a few had their names in light
so we could see in the darkness
although some learned to feel with their bodies
and did not need the light go jive and spunk
it was both pleasure and weariness
that birthed the Blues
from the Mud of the Mississippi to the Byways of Chicago
It was the blood beating in their hearts
seeking the light for some, and what felt good for others
putting into play a whole new range of emotions and style

I’m working on a new translation of Lao Tzu’s Tao de Ching,
The legendary 84 verses painted on the walls of an ancient cave in China
Since I had always meant to write a biography of James Brown
And remix the samba lyrics of Vinicius de Moraes
And since I’m running out of time that can be allotted to such ridiculous endeavors
the three projects would have to become one and the same
rolling together like the three wheels of a tryke
Anyone who reads the book right will achieve the sacred state of funki-tori
Anyone who reads it wrong will end up broke on a beach in Ipanema
In either case there’s no refund
As you have arrived

The funk that can be danced is or is not the eternal funk
But to shake your hips till you feel pretty darn good
and your legs and arms are jolly
Is to evoke the spirit of ‘Out o’ sight’ and: Dy-No-Mite!

Black people were beaten down in America
But they still had their Soul when they set out to planting
When White people discovered electricity
They found that Black Folk already had it
(Sorry Ben Franklin – you can still stay on the dollar)
The powers of amplification and radio transmission
Gave birth to a new explosion of sound and body
The seeds had begun to sprout
Even the Andrew Sisters had it
As Soul was now a-plenty in the New World

The porch in the county in the South
had been a place to catch banjos and washboards and blue jeans dancing
The church had been the spot of high exaltation
And only behind closed doors were certain sighs and mysteries left to unravel
But it all began to mix up in an American way
With elements from all the people from old country and new
Once just a little more power was added and those tunes hit the airwaves
All it took was a twist and whirl of a dial
To let the new breath in

Some date the dawn of the Atomic Age to 1945
I look to other things
Experiments with high voltage rhythm and blues
And a yearning by the people for pleasure and stars
And then someone plugged in Aretha Franklin, and that was it!

Now some say the Revolution could not be televised
But in fact when the cathode tube was still young
The early sparks were indeed broadcast (perhaps by mistake)
And many caught the fire
Disks were spun
And folks heard the call
They had no desire to remain within the four walls after that
They found places to gather together and vibe
And neither teacher nor police could hold them back

Funk is the ooze that flows outside of meters
It has no voice of its own
but travels in secret
from body to body
all sly and blue

Every true gesture if sufficiently powerful
may one day face capture by the Machine
And so TV was eventually flooded by soap commercials in R & B
But when a sound is young and fresh, or when a medium is new
Joy, exaltation and disruption from the hum drum
Are all that is spread across the land by the gizmos and jyzmos
Those who are ready will tune in and rock out
That is what it is when it is what it is

The funk that makes you jive
Is not the ever ready kind
But nothin’s ever-ready if you keep it in yo’ pocket too long

We don’t worry about cooptation
Because the source of the Blues can never be coopted
It is older than the first ancestor
and only lives in small gatherings
where flesh can meet flesh
and money loses currency
low scents intertwine
whispers can be heard
and the blood starts a pumping

Once the funk got nasty we knew it was real
yo’ a___ is after all a part of yo’ body
they tried to clean it up a bit
so that it could speak to the school children
get it closer to prime time
without blowin’ your mind

The funk that can be tasted may not be the eternal funk
but it will make your lips and tongue crinkle
as it’s pretty darn nasty

When Fritjof Capra proclaimed that Modern Physics
Had much akin to the old Mumbo Jumbo
We knew we had reached a new age of (mis)understanding and reformulation
between the races

Picasso and his buddies saw a glimmer of the funk when they gazed at
the sculpture of Nubia and Benin
The noses weren’t quite right, somehow bent in the funk
The lips were too thick and the hair way too frizzy for a Spaniard and a Moor
He realized there was something in there some kind of power he could use and it
fired up all his brushes
Matisse tried to beat him to the punch by calling forth the spirit of jazz in his own
work
but neither could master this strange black thang
They could only melt into it
Even Miles was bewildered when he saw that Thelonius already had the funk
the way he played his piano all crooked off the notes
Miles couldn’t master it neither, but he learned to ride that wave and breathe into it
from time after time

Erykah Badu, Daúde, Jill Scott
Someone with a sour face and a strut in Japan
A server of cosmic brew and didgeridoo in Australia
A remixer of sounds in Paris or a river club in Copenhagen
the list of compositeurs and stylizers in this realm
is only limited by the size of your paper
and the the ability to feel

Some say the funk is dirty
As if some suds and bubbles would wipe their muff clean
We always knew creation was messy
That cat likes to call the kettle Black
When he licks that bowl of cherries
Some say the funk is stinky
As if a beard of suds would help it out
We already knew creation wasn’t spotless
And sexy wears a stench

Those who can dance don’t talk
Those who talk are too busy to slap their bass guitars around like a fool
And so the sage knows when to boogie down in silence
the eyes and hips can say all there is that needs be said
It’s a pink and brown fantasy
With a tuft of hairy on the side

When a learned one hears of the funk
He returns to his books
When a lesser one hears about it
She goes into town to buy new shoes
When a country bumpkin hears of the funk
She laughs and laughs and laughs
If she didn’t laugh, it wouldn’t be the funk

In the Age of the Machine everyone is out shopping
for Cinderella’s Ball
The merchant’s wares are made of colorized plastics
and money is made of holes
Still you can stitch yourself together
with your mother’s garments and quilts
and your daddy’s mystical oils
gather up a bundle of home spun adornments
mix in your own strident expression
and you can wrangle your own personal invitation
to the finest balls in town

Some say the age was birthed by a bomb
But I look to other things
That can be felt before seen
Coming into awareness during your own generation or one many before
A ripple of chocolate on a jelly belly
a twisted beat you can’t seem to shake
a way of carrying your frame in style and shape
a motion you can be proud of and you know it’s your own

Lau Tzu said
Without the lows you could never get high
Reminding us that even the rich and stingy
Need to get low down and dirty and let go of some of it
If they want to stay within the good graces of the Mother of it All
Those at the bottom carry the seeds of their own salvation
As well as for those who would rule
-From the Afro-Brazilian edition of that Big Bad Book

Some say this mystery should be kept secret
Such beauty is not meant for the open air and sunlight
In the public gaze of the market it will wilt and wither away
They keep their art tight well below the surface
And you will get a small whiff by invitation only
So keep your senses open and ready
I can only share the part that had been steeped between friends

The funk that can be told
Is not the eternal funk
The gateway to all mystery
Touches a spot on your body
Ever moving, never speaking
Only humming

You are bathed in a steady stream of sound and vocalization
this is your daily dose of funk and all that jazz
you will want to dance or tap a toe
you won’t be able to keep from doing so
with each breath your own rhythm and spunk enters the world
you cry you gasp a new word comes out
you are bathed in a pool of sound
this is your daily dose of world electronica
it will never stop

The funk that can be told
uses lips that have been kissed by the sun
and hips that can be known in the night
it is no ordinary story
as it must be told in a sweat with a strut
James Brown made it scream
after he plugged into that vibe
but the ancients also made this sap rise
long before anyone turned on the juice
from the moist grassland of Africa
to the flame-lit cities of Arabia and Mesopotamia
it is older than the first trombone

can you play jazz without the instruments?
I think it can be done

The Funk that can be told is from my manuscript “Love in the Time of the Machines: Zen & Funk Études” which I wrote out of the belief that we are partly being duped, and partly missing out on opportunities with respect to the invention, manufacture and use of technology. Those who develop technology are asking all the wrong questions, if they ask questions at all as to the “why” and “for whom” of what they do. Those who use technology (all of us in the U.S.) may be deceived, or in fact may be onto something, depending on the cleverness and vitality with respect to their hearts.

We do not know, and no one can say for sure whether Love has been primarily enhanced or degraded by our living in the Time of the Machines. In an age of exhilarating jet propulsion, home entertainment systems, and bio-tech vaccines, are there corresponding spill-over effects, impacting on the affairs of the heart? Such questions must be asked, even if definitive answers may elude us. These are questions, after all, for poets and philosophers, as much as they are for scientists and mathematicians. We know that how we ask a question, influences all that we shall uncover.

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Sean I. Robin is a musician, independent scholar, and planner. He was founding editor of Indigenous Planning Times, a magazine presenting multicultural perspectives on community transformation, and is the convener of the BIPOC Planning Collective. He has also been published in Progressive Cities (See “Introducing the Indigenous Planning Collective.”) He has worked for many years in the community development sector to combat homelessness and generate healthier communities. He studied Mathematics and English at Cornell University and earned a Master of City Planning at MIT, with his thesis Performance as a Means of Youth Empowerment. He comes from family of renowned performers and scientists, and only rarely do they clash.