Happy 45th Anniversary to Parliament’s fifth studio album The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein, originally released September 29, 1976.
Parliament knew how to party. Led by musical visionary and mad genius George Clinton, the group had spent the better part of the 1970s transforming the act of wilding out on record into an artform. With most of their albums, they built to the big blowout across the length of each project. With their fifth album, The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein, the festivities begin almost immediately and don’t let up until the record is finished.
If you’re examining the Parliament-Funkadelic timeline, Clones was released during a period of transition for George Clinton’s collective. Funkadelic, Parliament’s more tripped-out, rock-centered counterpart, had just transitioned from Westbound Records to Warner Bros. Records; Clinton would reboot the band a couple of years later. Meanwhile, Parliament was hitting their artistic and commercial stride. Mothership Connection (1975), their previous release, was their first Platinum album, and was their first full-throated foray into conceptual territory.
The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein is an extremely entertaining continuation of Parliament’s evolution. It might not be quite as great as some of their best albums, but it is extremely fun and enjoyable. It also features some of the best musicianship the band ever displayed and plays like 40 minutes of revelry. The album is a perfectly crafted celebration of funk and bliss.
Much of the album’s funk is provided by players who had been with the group for years, including Garry Shider on guitar, Bernie Worrell on keyboard, and Jerome “Bigfoot” Brailey on drums. They were joined by William “Bootsy” Collins on bass, who had been playing with Clinton since 1972, as well as trombonist Fred Wesley and trumpeter Maceo Parker, who both began their stints with Clinton’s crew on their previous album, Mothership Connection. Musically, Clones is best known for its horn arrangements, which were complex and layered. Wesley and Worrell share the glory, with each credited for putting together a separate half of the arrangements for the album. However, Clinton wrote in his autobiography that they often worked in tandem.
Though this wasn’t Collins, Wesley, or Parker’s first rodeo with Clinton’s camp, Clones was the first time musicians from James Brown’s orbit made up so much of the fuel that drove the Parliament engine. Songs on the album emphasize playing “on the one,” a principle that Collins has stated that he learned from Brown during his period backing Mr. Dynamite. The philosophy emphasizes the importance of the first beat of every measure. The Godfather of Soul used to tell Bootsy to just give him “that one note,” and he could do whatever he wanted with the rest.
It’s especially prevalent on “Everything Is On the One,” a jam that’s short on lyrics, but loaded with pure funk. Worrell is credited for shaping the towering horn arrangements. His synth playing and Collins’ pluckiness on bass complements the triumphant grooves. “Gamin’ on Ya” is another jam where Worrell’s horn arrangements and Bootsy’s “elastic” bass-playing are front and center. While the few lyrics for the song seem almost incidental, there’s a terse poetry to the repeated chants of “People keep waiting on a change / They ain’t got sense enough to come in out of the rain.”
Much of the “meat” of Clones comes in its middle portion, which deals with Parliament’s world-building. Clinton had been conceiving the collective’s mythological origins since the early 1970s but got serious about it with Parliament’s rebirth. He had gradually been formulating a unique cast of characters with each release, which became intrinsic to the group’s success.
Mothership Connection had already debuted the concept of the Afronauts touring the galaxy, spreading good vibes. On Clones, Clinton introduced Dr. Funkenstein and his Children of Production. The Children were the nominal clones of the good doctor, “capable of Funkatizing galaxies,” who hibernated amongst the pyramids, waiting to be awoken to spread peace through funk.
Clinton wrote that he began formulating ideas for Clones before Mothership Connection even hit the shelves. Inspired by Clones, a sci-fi novel he discovered while riding the train system at the Dallas airport, he became fascinated with the concept of cloning. He began to read extensively about the subject, envisioning his own musical process was similar to cloning, and how the practice could show “that death can be defeated by science.”
Clinton fashioned Dr. Funkenstein as “an emperor of intergalactic funk” and the boss of Starchild, the “hero” he’d introduced on Mothership Connection. During Parliament-Funkadelic concerts in the mid-1970s, after Glenn Goines called down the Mothership, it was Dr. Funkenstein, “the big pill,” that emerged, swaggering his way onto the stage.
The song “Dr. Funkenstien” is deliciously funky, and one of the group’s most memorable songs. There’s not much in the way of songwriting, as most of the song is Clinton riffing, “Swift lippin’ and ego trippin’ and body snatchin,’” while basking in his own aura of cool. Worrell’s squiggly keyboard playing is distinctive and almost meandering, while complementing the Doctor’s boasts. The creative horn arrangements, credited to Wesley, are stunning, as the brass tones make their ways through the song’s nearly six-minute length.
“Children of Production” is another impressively executed track, with the group explaining their purpose of awakening the listener’s consciousness through music. “We're a flawless testimony to the attainment of the P-Funk endowed with conceivement of true groove,” they croon. “Do That Stuff,” which served as the album’s lead single, a jam drenched in watery funk and joy. Worrell shines on the synthesizers throughout the song, as the group sings of a party that goes on without end, fueled by Parliament’s “new funky sound.”
Clones works equally well when Parliament goes in a more traditional direction, content-wise. “Getten’ to Know You” plays the role of the love song that appears on every Funkadelic album. But rather than a tongue-in-cheek ballad, it’s a swirling disco number, with particularly off-kilter horns playing by Wesley and Parker. Wesley’s solo is particularly potent.
The slinky “I’ve Been Watching You (Move Your Sexy Body)” provides a change of pace. While most of the songs on Clones sound like they’re designed to be played by the band in large arenas, “I’ve Been Watching You” is the soundtrack to smoky after-hours lounges. The horns are almost de-emphasized, faded to the background, as Shider’s work on the guitar and Glenn Goins’ almost sultry vocals drives the song’s heavy groove.
Clones ends with “Funkin’ for Fun,” a largely mid-tempo jam that gives the spotlight to Goins’ powers as a singer. Goins, 21 years old at the time of Clones’ recording, was known for his gospel-infused vocals. He and Shider helped Clinton pen “Funkin’ for Fun,” a track about learning to cut the apron strings and forge your own path in life. Life ended up imitating art the next year, as Goins left the Parliament fold, reportedly due to disagreements with Clinton’s management of the group. He formed Quazar with his younger brother Kevin and Parliament-Funkadelic drummer Brailey and released a self-titled album in 1978. Sadly, Glenn Goins died that same year from Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein was another commercial success for Parliament and was certified Gold in short order. The band would get even more out there and conceptual with their subsequent releases, which met with equal success. In many ways, Clinton’s vision for this album came true, as many of the collective members indeed went out on their own to spread their musical knowledge, influenced by his teachings. Carrying the lessons that they learned at least partially from Clones, the funk was in good hands.
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