Keb Darge's Legendary Deep Funk Vol.3

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Yet more polished funk gems mined for us by Keb Darge. Amidst the rash of current funk reissues - Kool & The Gang and Cameo 12" Collections (Mercury); Barrio Nuevo (Soul Jazz); Super Breaks (Ace); The Baby Huey Story (Sequel) etc. - Barely Breaking Even's Legendary Deep Funk series and Funk Spectrum stand tall. And it's Keb Darge who drives these projects on with obsessive zeal. Darge is an interesting fellow - the impassioned rant on the sleevenotes, asking the worst aspects of the music industry to 'step outside' basically, hint at his Highland origins. A former Scottish disco dancing champion (and Tae Kwon Do champion too) who became a Northern Soul DJ hero throughout the 80s, Darge had his belief in funk reinvigorated by a residency in Japan. And belief is the key word here - for Darge's brand of funk is about passion, energy, authenticity and belief. Specialising in compiling otherwise unobtainable, incredibly rare 45s (well, unobtainable without spending much time at record fairs, handing over hundreds of pounds, or being part of swap-circles with DJ Shadow, Ian Wright, Snowboy et al), the Legendary Deep series, and corresponding Sunday nighters at Madame Jo Jos, plot the trajectory of funk from its Northern Soul, R&B and boogaloo origins through to the disco and jazz-funk period. The album opens with Prince Valiant's "Back Yard", featuring an memorable organ intro of considerable skill and panache. Bubbly! Franciene Thomas' "I'll Be There" is almost drum'n'bass. Pumping! Lee Sykes' "Lock Jaw" features some great, chainsawed guitar playing. Brutal! The Dynamic Concepts' "Funky Chicken" is driven along by a blinding horn section. Inspirational! In describing Freedom Now's mighty "Sissy Walk", Darge takes a nice swipe at subsequent sampler Fatboy Slim, his sleeve notes alluding to "some young pretender achieved glory on the back of this and a Just Brothers track by adding a few stupid shouts and noises, then kidding on he was a great innovator". Abso-fucking-lutely. You get to revel in some pretty daft lyrics in Paul Jackson's "Quack Quack Quack", and have to deal with some pretty objectionably sexist lyrics in Johnnie Morisette's "I'm Hungry". That kinda comes with the territory - times have changed - but the music shines through all of these. The playing is never lazy, always on the edge, intensely committed. And deeply enjoyable as a result. It's real music. As Darge says, listening to it won't make you trendy, but it "may enrich your life a little". Make that "a lot". Another fine addition to a legendary series.