Wisecrack this Zodiac: A Review of Vulfpeck

Funk music is not dusty. Before I had listened to any funk, the very mention of it conjured up connotations in my head of dusty disco balls and moth-eaten musty cord trousers. I have the humility to now admit that I was wrong in my judgment. Last year I saw Nile Rogers play in the 3Arena in Dublin and had more fun than I’d had at a gig in months. Funk music is for dancing, although it is still a genre that remains on the outskirts of my comfort zone.  Admittedly, my knowledge of it is largely limited to the dulcet 70s haziness of Chic and Sly & the Family Stone.

There can be such a culture of pretentiousness when it comes to seeing live music nowadays which makes it difficult at times to infiltrate the ranks of superfans just for the sake of music enjoyment – what do you mean you don’t know every single song by this artist? But I fully believe in going to as many live gigs as possible and so I brave adversity and find myself clambering into a car on a chilly 1st October to journey down to Dublin to see American funk group Vulfpeck perform in the Olympia Theatre.

Founded in 2011 by Jack Stratton, the group met in Michigan music school and initially produced their own music and uploaded it to old faithful YouTube. Since then, the band has released 4 EPS, 3 albums, a silent album and have a much anticipated upcoming release of new album Hill Climber in December 2018. Let me tell you a secret, Vulfpeckare the way into funk music. Listening to them at all sounds like sunshine but live, new levels of awe are reached. With a performance that feels like a conglomerate mesh of a comedy show, pantomime and strangely acquires the same energy as hanging out with old friends in a living room, Vulfpeck manage to maintain their easy energy throughout a two hour set. These musicians, who, with their friendly stage presence could very easily be taken simply for “some dudes making wavy air sounds”, are the very best of their kind and despite watching from the relatively elevated upper circle at the Olympia, I know have never seen fingers work so fast in my life. I am mesmerised by Joe Dart who writhes with his bass like it’s his fifth limb, a living organ which he emerged from the womb knowing exactly how to control.

Vulfpeck just love music. You can tell from the energetic sparks which ignite the stage with every meticulous struck chord. Each song winds me, Dean Town makes me feel physically exhausted from just watching the mere skill take place down below me. The airwaves Vulfpeck whip to life flurry sweet colourful music towards my ears at what feels like the speed of light. I did not know my ears had tastebuds. These boys know how to put on a show and although it is a gig, I really do not know what to expect next.

Stratton, self-announced founder of Vulf records, bounces around the stage dressed in the Mr Finish Line soccer kit interchangeably with Theo Katzman from drums to guitar to vocals and introduces a new member from backstage every fifteen minutes. Joey Dosik sings acapella, Cory Wong slaps guitar like “some kind of delirious funky priest”, Antwaun Stanley with the sexiest voice known to man, does star jumps in perfect time with the band and then, Bridget Kearney appears, wraps herself around her double bass and I swear I fall in love – there is nothing more captivating than a classical instrument executing groovy tunes perfectly. It is difficult to write hyperbole but, I have never seen a performance that was simultaneously fun and musically tight – Vulfpeck are musicians of the highest degree; talented and well-versed, yes, but also harbouring a joy for what they create, a love of music that removes them from lofty affectation. They are almost too good for pretension – as exemplified with Kearney’s performance in Beastly underlined by comic timing from Woody Goss who nonchalantly walks onstage to play one piano note and exits without fuss.

Perhaps the most clear-cut example of Vulfpeck’s inability to be anything but charming in their skill is the high dependence on audience participation to give further life to their performance. If musical acts attract fans of their ilk it is only natural that fans of Vulfpeckare often musicians themselves. I have never before sat in an audience who can hum a concert G upon request. Or experienced a random audience member be able to automatically go up an octave when asked. Or been in an audience who provided full backing vocals for tracks. The wall between artist and observer comes tumbling down, Wong appears in the audience right in the middle of Funky Duck in a gesture to the Phantom of the Opera and Stratton hurls himself off the stage into the writhing sea of bodies dancing below him.

You leave the very best shows feeling quenched and suitably stimulated. Vulfpeckmakes their air electric and alive, full to the brim with gorgeous resonant music which makes the synesthete in me see swirling blues and purples and oranges and pinks. I am adamant if they played for another minute I would not be able to breathe.

As we exit, warm and still buzzing from the high and conversations bloom around me,

“Did you see that?”

“Geniuses”

“It’s just a whole experience, isn’t it?”

 “I honestly think I’m drunk”

I could kick myself for being so close minded about that funky music. My new assessment? Funk is sexy and supple, and I will listen to Christmas in LA for the musical skill regardless of the season. There’s a Mighty Boosh episode where funk is a living creature which falls from outer space and honestly, I now accept that mythology as gospel. I think I would believe you if you told me Vulfpeck are alien beings of advanced ability sent by some benevolent god to teach mere mortals how music is meant to sound.

By H. R. Gibbs