Pour. Unofficial stronghold of the German phunks, which may also have originated from some flatmates in Cologne (they callüem Funky Fury), to carry the shining path of funkism to the rest of the world. Or to simply quote: “”Oh come on, I can’t believe it, Arne Diedrichson!”” People in Giessen know each other. And the aforementioned Mr. Diedrichson and Hubertus Cunz, the two masterminds behind Montana Chromeboy, can certainly be credited with having a talent for exacting copying of the old heroes like Sun or Zapp And Rogers, as they jam the good old talkbox with ease while jamming (remember the hose in the mouth of many a singer, not least the Foo Fighter front man) and drive the wahwah vibe with pleasant naturalness like a herd of cows in front of them. Campfire stories are told in a smoky voice ü¡ la Everlast at the sizzling BBQ and summer seems closer than the Central European climate might suggest at the moment. And at the latest the guest appearance of the Memphis Horns, that brass section that is inextricably linked to soul, gives an idea that in Germany, one can hardly believe it, the big funk attack is no longer just pending, we are right in the middle of it. Or to say it with Rodgau Monotones: “Have mercy, too late, the Hesse is coming…” Larissa Lüters / www.sonic-seducer.de
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