A friend of mine once said, “The most significant thing funk will ever do is get sampled.” I want to explore that thought for a moment. It’s easy to see how the sheer volume of cuts sampled from old Rare Groove records will guarantee funk’s survival not through its original format, but in the footnotes of countless other genres (hip-hop, rap, jungle, d&b, IDM, etc). The way these samples compile and relate, sometimes even evolving autonomy on their own accord (e.g., the Amen Break), suggest that my friend’s judgment was valid. It also deserves stating that these samples aren’t solely relegated to basement DJ sets either; oftentimes they can—and do—break into the mainstream consciousness.
The motivations behind funk’s mass sampling are obvious—the breaks, beats, and melodies are all somewhat unusually constructed in comparison to, say, traditional rock and pop — but specifically, Rare Groove records are sampled because the original funky cuts are, at a basic level, novel enough to entertain the listener unaccompanied. Using myriad methodologies, these samples can be interacted with brilliantly, even though many contemporary artists are simply choosing their samples unwisely. But the whole purpose of sampling funk is compromised when the sample itself becomes a feature instead of a support.
Case in point: “Big Chief” by Professor Longhair, recently sampled by Lily Allen on “Knock ‘Em Out.”
Meagerly lauded in the 50s for his New Orleans rhythm and blues, the Professor’s funky piano remained steadfastly unique as of 1964, the year “Big Chief” was initially released. The tune kicks in with a jittery little piano line, straight up and down a blues scale; I hate to use the word ‘quirky,’ but hot damn if it doesn’t fit the bill. The progression could be reasonably drawn out for four to five minutes, but Prof. Longhair doesn’t see why he shouldn’t end it at the two-minute mark—the timeless “like it, play it again” mantra.
This sort of funk is one of the most difficult breeds a producer might sample. Often it is a song’s boldness that allows it to remain potent for minutes on end, and this is certainly the case with “Big Chief.” The track’s audacity doesn’t exactly ripen it for use in supporting traditional lead instruments or vocals, but to make the sample itself a lead is to more or less conflict with the purpose of sampling as a whole. A problematic position. (Disclaimer: This is not to say that it’s impossible to make decent music out of a sample cut from “Big Chief.” There are many other perfectly acceptable methods of creating art using precisely this aesthetic. What I am attempting to describe here is coming from a thoroughly pop/rock viewpoint and nothing else.)
Now, draw your attention to Lily Allen’s “Knock ‘Em Out,” wherein Allen employs a tasteless sample of the classic “Big Chief” progression.
Thrown beneath a punchy beat and Allen’s bratty accent, the progression—an extroverted, vivacious piece— sits awkwardly as a mere foundation. The result is almost offensive. Sure, “Knock ‘Em Out” is probably a marvelous track if the vocals were removed—the drum production is absolutely immaculate, and its rhythmic precision intermingles quite eagerly with Professor Longhair’s piano—but the additional lead, already tainted by Allen’s snide voice and immature lyricism, soils any possible merit that the track might have contained.
But Allen was doomed from the start. Longhair’s piano feels uncomfortably restless in the background, and the opposite scenario (“Big Chief” as a lead) looks to be an equally unpleasant option for the reasons I outlined above. So why did Allen use it? “It sounds cool,” says Allen. She was right about that—it does sound cool. But clearly not every “cool” sound is worth sampling.
