We got the funk

Gotta have that funk. Last night, Cas and I went to the House of Blues with his friends Adam and Jennifer to see George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic.

There was a pretty good opening act, and about three seconds after they left the stage, the room started to smell a little different.  Of course.  In case anyone was wondering, the funkmaster in chief leaned down to the front row of the audience and said, "Give me the joint, mother f***er."  The fan obliged, and George lit it up on stage.

That tells you more than I could with mere words.  It was a good show, of course.  They played the songs everyone expected to hear and some I had never heard.  There were some rap numbers by different members of the entourage, and those were the songs I found the least appealing.  Oh, well.  I guess I am unfamiliar with that particular type of funk.  

The band was as massive as ever.  The thing with Parliament Funkadelic is that there are dozens of people in the band at any point in its existence.  It's pretty clear when you see this picture of the throng waiting off the stage for their turn to participate:

It was a very good time, but I started to suspect that George is a little like the English queen.  He's like the figurehead of the funk nation, and it appears his role is becoming increasingly ceremonial.  Many of the songs only peripherally involved George.  I can't judge, of course.  I'm a 40 year old white lady who was raised in the suburbs.  What do I know about funk?  

And though I adore my date, he doesn't exactly scream out funky, either.  He admitted that a purple shirt with a pair of jeans was about as funky as his wardrobe could get.  

Cas' friend Adam decided to see if we could sneak up to the balcony.  Seemed to work out.  We hijacked some really good seats for the opening act, but we were summarily excused before P Funk took the stage.  We stood for a while, then we paired off and found some vacant seats.  For about half of the show, we were sitting in ill-gotten chairs.  So scandalous.  

Because it was such an odd audience, I was enjoying the people-watching along with the show.  There was a very tall, slender black lady who stood at her seat and danced for several songs, and behind her was an older, white couple.  The man in the couple used a wheelchair while the woman did not.  When the woman in the couple got up to get a drink or use the restroom or whatever, she tried briefly to mirror the dance moves of the younger woman in front of her.  It made her and her guy laugh.  Heck, it made me laugh, too.  She was probably in her fifties, and she kind of looked like an elementary school librarian, so when she tried to repeat the dance moves of a young woman overwhelmed by the funk, it was pretty funny.  

Sometime after midnight, the band struck up Atomic Dog.  It felt like a closer for the show, and George was waving to people in a way that felt like he was saying good night.  That's why I was so confused when another song followed it.  When that one ended, Cas and I thought it was probably time to head out, but another song began.  We decided it was probably for the best if we headed out then, so we said good night to Adam and Jennifer, who clearly wanted to stick around for the duration.  It was just getting so late.  I can't do 2 am on a Friday during the school year, mother ship or no.  It's just too much for me.  I know my bartender self from my 20s would be mortified, but I was exhausted.  Cas felt the same way.  At least we're on the same funky wavelength.  

It's supposed to rain again tonight, so we decided it would be best to keep it low-key and stay in.  We haven't watched any Netflix on the couch in a while- our jobs keep intervening.  It will be good to stay in and be kind of boring tonight.