Returned From a Different Dimension – Funkpod 62

Pod of Funk

Four years in the wilderness, or somewhere like it.

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The first question is what kept me? The answer is everything.

Four years of patching up mind, body and jeans. Yes, jeans, I am of that ancient generation. I don’t wear them in bed, and I never iron them. I do wear them when sleeping rough.

The second question: why now? The answer is, why not? I miss it. I had to delete a few million files to find the funk I found which felt sufficiently funky. I also found the usual way out tunes which aerate the smoking lounge.

Finally, it was boring without me. I know, I wasn’t myself.

The third question: how long did it take? Answer: four 12 hour days over two weeks. I also had to patch up my computer which had only 45MB space on the hard drive. So, having removed practically everything it’s working now, and so am I, just not in a regular ‘going to work’ way.

Work is finding tunes which go with other tunes, plus inserting speech and occasional interviews, feeding the cat, and remembering to honour the best ideas, the ones I write down and which still seem good enough to carry out the following day, or month. Sometimes year.

The fourth and final question: why did I bother?

My people, your people, all the people in the world who are oppressed by the appalling state of humanity, the fragility of nature, bad food, spite, aggression, lack of amity, endless poverty, mindless greed, nugatory utterances from politicians, lies, lies, lies, joyless poverty, shameful exploitation, and no decent funk.

And that’s me feeling a heck of a lot better, mostly fixed, still a bit twitchy. Might have a nice cup of tea.

Do you like him? Sometimes I do.

As my friend and architect of the funk Bootsy Collins posted:

So, funky brethren, no interviews this time, but there will be next time.

Deek Deekster

“Next time will be much sooner than last time”

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