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Pablo Discobar - The Kung-Fu Kitchen




It is a truth well- known and universally acknowledged that you can't fight the funk. For to fight the funk is to fight all that is primal and primordial in our very self hood, it takes us back to our most animalistic leanings which include bumping, grinding, gyrating and most importantly shaking your ass.

  
  

Despite the primal nature of funk, it is most probably the hardest genre of music to master. For funk cannot be broken down into mere musical notation nor a theoretical basis for its being. No, funk must be felt, ingrained into the psyche of those who play it. The ability to sit in the pocket of the groove is born, not learned. Good funk has the ability to lift even the most dour and straight-laced cat off their seat and on to the dance floor in a booty-shaking frenzy, and, bad funk, well band funk is just funking awful.

  
  

Into the funk fray comes Melbourne's own Pablo Discobar who have been kicking around town for nigh on three years and have been blitzkrieging stages across Melbourne with many a well deserved residency.

  
  

Despite the kind words regarding all that is Pablo Discobar that had been uttered to me, until I received the CD for review I had as yet been indoctrinated into their world.

  
  

So I slipped the Pablo Discobar's new EP The Kung-Fu Kitchen into the CD player with some trepidation. I'm not adverse to a little booty-shaking myself (kept to the confines of my own lounge room of course) and having dated a cover-band musician before, I had heard enough bad funk in my time to cause my booty to snap into entropy.

  
  

Thankfully, from the first notes of opening track ‘I Won't Beg' not only to Pablo Discobar come out fighting, they come out downright blazing. The horns are blaring; the guitars are wah-wahing (as any great 1970's porno teaches you, that's a great thing) and the beats rate incredibly high on the shake-yer-booty meter.

  
  

One of the great things about Kung- Fu Kitchen (and there are many, too many than my word count will allow) is that it is funk with a distinctly Australian flavour. From the Australian accent allowed to shine through on the vocals to the subject matter covered in the lyrics. It becomes apparent that Pablo Discobar are not trying to be anything they are not.

  
  

Notably, the EP also crosses lines of genre into Hip-Hop, which is displayed most prominently in ‘H.O. War'. Now, I don't usually go in for political rapping. Generally, it represents a cheap shot at garnering a little extra respect for a sub-par musical exercise. However, ‘H.O. War' is a rare example of political rapping being done darn well. Musically, it is strong and lyrically it is even stronger focussing on issues rather than cheap insults, which considering the subject matter, is difficult not to focus upon because basically, Howard is a twat.

  
  

So I encourage you all, if you are in the mood for a little rump – shaking, not to mention a little thigh-slapping, crumping or gyrating, step into the ‘Kung-Fu Kitchen' and let Pablo Discobar serve you up one of this summers tastiest musical feasts.

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