Grandmaster flash and the furious five albums

Rare Essence, another of the 'Chocolate City' funk bands, released a 12-inch single this year: 'Body Moves' (Fantasy D-205). There's nothing innovative here, but nothing boring either. Sharp, clipped rhythm guitar and a clatter of cowbells and woodblocks keep the rhythm moving forward impatiently. The severely syncopated bass-drum groove is accented by synthesized hand claps. Between horn riffs, the rapping vocalists urge the crowd: 'Get On Up,' 'Let's Get Hot' or 'Pump Me Up.' As opposed to the sparse beat of 'The Message,' the Trouble Funk beat is multilayered. The four horns blow with one voice, punching out the catchy melodic hooks of funk. The six original tunes successfully straddle the boundary between funk and rap. The songs are devoid of social relevance (the title refers to the bomb of 'funkativity'), but are great party stimulators. With three percolating percussionists and a precise, piston-pumping horn section, Trouble Funk serves up one of the fattest, grabbiest dance beats anywhere. Unlike the Sugar Hill rappers, Trouble Funk is a self-contained 10-man band that has honed its skills at big dances in the Washington Coliseum. Much better is Trouble Funk, the best of Washington's 'Chocolate City' funk bands, whose recent album is 'Drop the Bomb' (Sugar Hill SH-266). Blow himself delivers everything in the same self-congratulatory, smirking voice that soon becomes tiresome. Blow's band plays a formulaic beat that quickly grows monotonous. Unfortunately, Blow's protest amounts to nothing more than jive elaborations on the idea that times are tough. Kurtis Blow became one of the first rap stars with the dextrous bragging word play of his hit single, 'The Breaks.' His endless variations on that song lost steam, and this year Blow also tried social relevancy with a recession-priced EP, 'Tough' (Mercury MX-1-505). Sylvia Robinson's compact production keeps each element of the mix in bright focus. All the cuts show off the brilliant distillation of modern funk by the Sugar Hill studio band, anchored by bassist Doug Wimbish and drummer Keith Leblance. The ballads are standard soul workouts while 'It's Nasty,' a clever reworking of the Tom Tom Club's 'Genius of Love,' unveils the group's refreshing humor.

The new Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five single, 'Scorpio,' is a mechanical exercise in voice distortion every bit as boring as those by Euro-funk bands like Kraftwerk. Unfortunately, nothing else on the album lives up to the breakthrough single. Instead of singsong doggerel over a familiar funk riff, 'The Message' is a dramaticallly delivered, subtly phrased monologue with music tailor-made for the words. Instead of such overstated bragging that implicitly supported the 'pimp myth,' 'The Message' is a concisely understated confession of frustration that sharply attacks the flashy 'Superfly' image.

Previously, the rappers had simply toasted themselves in boasting couplets over a 'borrowed' rhythm track. 'The Message' was a big breakthrough in both form and content for the rap music movement. Also on the bill are Kurtis Blow, Trouble Funk, Rare Essence, Starpoint, Experience Unlimited and Atlantic Starr. Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five will headline the annual New Year's Eve 'Party with the Stars' at the Capital Centre tomorrow night. The song is now the title track and high point of the group's first album (Sugar Hill SH-268). The record achieves the spare, frightening sound of ice cracking while you're skating on it. An unwinding synthesizer figure adds a disturbing fatalism to the angry, dryly spoken rhymes. It's like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under.' Wonder supported his tribute to determination with grand, majestic music the tension in 'The Message' is reinforced by the lean, riveting tick of the Sugar Hill studio team, creating intimidating spaces around your feet. Wonder idealized perseverance Flash ominously warns of a breaking point: 'Don't push me, 'cause I'm close to the edge. Wonder emphasized race discrimination Grandmaster Flash stresses class discrimination. This seven-minute rap has become an anthem for frustrated urban teen-agers, galvanizing them like nothing since Stevie Wonder's 1973 'Living for the City.' Like the Wonder song, 'The Message' graphically describes the struggle for survival in poor neighborhoods and includes a dramatized encounter with the police. During this past year of cutbacks and rollbacks, the sharpest cry of protest has come on a 12-inch single from Harlem: 'The Message' by Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five.

Grandmaster flash and the furious five albums