Orgone

Tuesday December 30, 2008

PREVIEW Los Angeles' Orgone chose its name well: if you have a couple hours to kill, you could do worse than riding the Wikipedia reference trail in the direction of Wilhelm Reich's concept and its ambitious attempt to link observable events with libidinal energy. What the idea lacks in scientific standing, it makes up for in its ability to st(r)oke the imagination. Orgone's abbreviated Afrobeat-soul-funk jams might even make a good alternate soundtrack to the orgy of styles, stories, and moods on display in Dušan Makavejev's W.R.: Mysteries of the Organism (1971). Even though Orgone has nine core members, there's nothing flabby or random about the ensemble's sound: Fela Kuti's fusion of Ghanaian highlife and American funk sets the rules and agenda for the group on tracks like "It's What You Do," and the playing is tight enough to put accusations of "genre exercise" to bed while brimming with the kind of coherence that might even make something as anarchic as W.R. make sense.

But even when dipping their toe in Afrobeat, Orgone's overriding ambition clearly points to the soul/funk axis of Otis Redding and the Meters.  Next to Antibalas' jazzy flow, Orgone's horns seem unable to content themselves with Afrobeat's long-form, percolating build, eager instead to burst out of the song's frame. Romantic longing is the locus of this Angeleno nonet's music, a point that's unmistakable when vocalist Fanny Franklin steps up to the mic on tracks like "Who Knows Who." In submitting to its influences rather than vying for the romantic notion of the original artist, Orgone humbly hits all the pleasure points strewn across the genres the band venerates. It feels as bright and welcoming as it sounds.

 

ORGONE

A Groove Supreme
by Dave Segal

Orgone

 

When it's good, funk is some of the most satisfying and libidinous music you'll ever have the privilege to experience. Trouble is, good funk isn't easy to create, as legions of Red Hot Chili Pepper copyists have proved, to the detriment of ears everywhere. This is especially the case after funk's late-'60s/mid-'70s peak. Funk got weaker after Gerald Ford took office. Coincidence? I don't think so. Funk somehow needed the über-corrupt Richard Nixon in the White House to thrive. That's my theory and I'm sticking with it. For myriad reasons, the years 1968 to 1974 provided a golden age of funkiness, an era overflowing with immortal, soulfully danceable cuts, which hiphop producers have been greedily plundering for samples over the last three decades. During this period, analog recording techniques reached their zenith, and when you factor in James Brown's groundbreaking lessons being incorporated; major labels throwing money at anything hinting at counterculture cachet; loosening societal strictures regarding sexuality; the empowerment of minorities, women, and antiwar activists; and the prevalence of potent drugs, you get a musical milieu of unparalleled risk-taking and innovation. And lots of towering Afros. L.A. nonet Orgone nonetheless have infused funk and soul's most tantalizing attributes with modern brio and true-school spirit. The group's 2007 debut disc, The Killion Floor (Ubiquity), flaunts righteous covers of the late Isaac Hayes's "Do Your Thing," the Beginning of the End's "Funky Nassau," and George McRae's "I Get Lifted," revealing Orgone's debt to history—and their exquisite taste. Orgone's members have spread their carnal groove knowledge in other outfits such as funk chameleons Breakestra and hiphop orchestra Dakah, while also providing live backing for backpack rappers Pharoahe Monch and the Pharcyde, turntablist savant Z-Trip, and Nawlins funk deity Eddie Bo. Orgone's cred is irrefutable and these experiences have helped them hone their chops to military tightness on The Killion Floor. One paradox about funk is that its rhythmic tightness triggers loose behavior, whether in clubs or boudoirs. Orgone—who are named after a potent sexual energy defined by psychoanalyst Wilhelm Reich—unleash said lusty life force with a rare panache. "Sophisticated Honky" is a raunchy funk-rock instrumental featuring flinty guitars twisted into lewd shapes, steamy bass-and-drum interplay, and breezy brass; "Do Your Thing" is a lubricious torch song that could make a Barry White ballad faint. But Orgone also persuasively play Afrobeat, as "It's What You Do" and "Justice League" recall Fela Kuti's band's humidity and throb, repurposed for sophisticated R&B fans. Many people swear that '60s and '70s funk and soul will never be surpassed. I asked Orgone vocalist Fanny Franklin what she thinks about that mindset. "I agree with that," she says. "In the '60s and '70s, people were inspired by the times, and the music that came out of those times cannot be touched. Everyone is inspired by someone else, and that will never change, [but] how that is expressed in music is up to each individual. I think Orgone has a great love and respect for the music of that time, and no one [in our group's] trying to copy it, only to be inspired by it... I don't think anyone should feel like they have to re- invent the wheel—just play what you like. If it comes from the heart, it shouldn't sound contrived."

 

 





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