Various Artists | Florida Funk 1968-1975
Jazzman Records
Reviewed by Peter Aaron

Everyone loves those funky old soul sounds. The rump-rolling jams put forth first by the music’s late creator, James Brown, and then by his disciples Sly Stone, P-Funk, the Ohio Players, and legions of other hitmakers are infectious enough to make even the stiffest pinstripe type bust a move. But you’re only getting the tip of the iceberg until you’ve bumped up on the raw fatback dropped via no-budget regional indie labels in the late 60s and early 70s.

Much like how the earlier Nuggets, Pebbles, and Back From The Grave compilations chronicle the wealth of 60s garage rock obscurities, newer reissue labels like Stone’s Throw, Soul Jazz, and Jazzman are now mining America’s thrift stores and junk bins for scarce funk tracks to include on their own series of DJ-pleasing, dance floor-filling anthologies. Taking a regional approach, the UK-based Jazzman has already issued stellar volumes covering Texas and the Midwest; this latest installment rounds up 22 of the Gator State’s grittiest, greasiest, and grooviest.

Naturally, the influence of Soul Brother Number One lives large all over Florida Funk: “Quit Jive’in” (sic) by Miami’s Pearly Queen is an outright retooling of JB’s “Get on the Good Foot,” while Orlando’s Bobby Williams (“All the Time”) is remembered in the set’s deep liner notes as the state’s leading Brown clone (and one whose tight band even drew praise from the Godfather himself). Still, just as the music of the spirited teen bands aping British Invasion acts on the above-mentioned garage compilations adds up to something more than how it might appear on paper, so it is with these more musician-ly but equally determined wannabes. In other words, here attitude trumps originality—but your dancin’ booty still wins big time.

The cuts on Florida Funk are more than just a buttload of bangin’ party music. They’re cultural snapshots, perfectly sleazy time capsules from the days of Superfly and polyester. Take “Na Na” by the impossibly named septet Coke, a conga-driven ode to the band’s namesake. Or the slimy, “Shaft”-style wah-wah that kicks off “Butterfly Theme,” an early instrumental by porno-funk king Blowfly; or even just the name of the label and catalog number of the Delrays’ “Pure Funk” single: Phart Records 0069. Ya just can’t make this stuff up.

If Quentin Tarantino is in need of some tuneage for his next flick, he’ll find a ton of it right here.