Full Circle
by oliver wang

Funk traveler

TEXAS HAS BEEN taking some hard knocks. First the space shuttle disintegrated over central Texas, and then Dubya's Gulf War: The Sequel had native sons and daughters distancing themselves, too. The Dixie Chicks' Natalie Maines, who hails from the state, was skewered for telling a London concert audience, "We're ashamed that the president of the United States is from Texas," and Texas-based Clear Channel Communications, among others, pulled the Dixie Chicks from the playlists at various radio stations throughout the Midwest and South. The Lone Star State would probably prefer to be left alone right now, but luckily not all of the musical news related to it is so dire.

Two new anthologies delve into the state's prodigious funk output during the late '60s to mid '70s: Texas Funk (Jazzman) and Iron Leg: The Complete Mickey and the Soul Generation (Cali-Tex). Ironically, the foremost champion of the state's musical heritage is Bay Area native Josh Davis, or DJ Shadow, who not only assembled Iron Leg but also penned the introduction to Malcolm Catto and Gerald Short's Texas Funk. On that compilation Davis explains why Texas shone so brightly among the various funk capitols, writing that it was partially a question of economy, as Texas represented the last stop on the famous Chitlin' Circuit for black entertainers. Davis also suggests that "the infamous intolerance of Lone Star society yielded an army of youths desperate for an outlet," which might help explain the ferocity of raw soul songs that exploded from Texas at that time.

In attempting to document this vast scene, Texas Funk delivers 21 songs by as many bands, representing nine cities. Ironically, the anthology's compilers are not only out-of-state but also out-of-country – Catto and Short hail from the U.K. What's sorely missing from the comp is their own narrative, explaining how two funk fanatics from soggy Britain came to scour through the arid desert of Texas to document its musical legacy. That exclusion aside, Texas Funk is impressively comprehensive, as Short and Catto move from city to city, offering biographical and discographical information on all of the artists included.

Given the state's rich blues legacy, it's not surprising that many of the songs draw from a gutbucket genealogy, heard in the screaming vocals of Dallas's enigmatic Eddie Finley on "Clean up Man" or the stirring bass lines of San Antonio's Sunny and the Sunliners on "Get Down." However, it's clear other Texan bands were equally inspired by neighboring Louisiana and New Orleans's second-line sound. Dallas Tex-Mex legend Joe Bravo does a killer cover of the Meters' "Cissy Strut," while the Road Runners, a mysterious band from the Texas-Louisiana border, show off their New Orleans stripes with the organ-heavy "Every Man for Himself."

Musically, no song is as powerful or sublime as Timothy McNealy's "Sagittarius Black." After a rousing introduction of shimmering drums and darting flutes, the rhythm section locks in with a driving beat as a reverb-laden guitar weeps alongside. Everything from psych to jazz influences insinuates itself in the Dallas native's song, one of the finest ever recorded in Texas.

The one city in the Lone Star State that stands above the rest, however, is San Antonio. It's the place of origin of almost a third of all the tracks included on Texas Funk, and this Tex-Mex nexus is also home to the group at the heart of Iron Leg: Mickey and the Soul Generation. While funk is commonly associated with black musicians, the Soul Generation were a group as multicultural as San Antonio itself. With musicians of black, white, and Latino heritage, their mix of cultures is reflected in how the group thread together strands of Mexican tejano, San Francisco psychedelia, and Macon soul.

Their resultant sound is incredibly rich and pliant – the band cook it up hot and greasy for their dance-floor mover "Football" but also send you on a chilled head trip on the laid-back, groovy "Mystery Girl." The group's most famous cut, the hotly sought-after "Get Down Brother," is a chunky slammer featuring some of the group's only vocals, "Get down brother, get down!" But it's nothing like their cover of "Message from a Black Man" – all stripped down wa-wa guitars and shrill keys. Alongside rare single-only sides, Iron Leg also includes the group's long-lost unreleased album from 1970 plus studio outtakes and demos.