Pablo Discobar

Pablo Discobar
The Only Thing
(Independent)

There are ways to bring the funk. Some use a shovel. Others chuck it in the boot of their car and drive it around town. Others carry it in their underpants. Most of it, however, resides in the human arse, where bringing the funk will cause said arse to tumultuously grow a mind of its own and proceed to shake. This is commonly referred to as˜bringing the funk’. Teamed with a bottle of Papa Hemingway’s finest rum, hot nights, and any number of fine looking ladies, the funk becomes an unstoppable force of nature, akin to a tidal wave of awesomeness. About as awesome on the awesome-a-meter as, say, Johnny Depp dressed as Batman.

There are few bands who harness that wave of funk - and in Melbourne we’re blessed with a bevvy of soul-funk-Latin kinda bands, of whom Pablo Discobar manage to stick from like a sore thumb covered in melted soul. The pure groove and persona they take on as masters of straight-up funk-soul leaves a trail of pop-funsters in their wake. It’s a leaner, more blues-funk (rather than the P-funk of say George Clinton or Earth Wind and Fire), but IT STILL GOT SOUL BABY, and it’s all the better for it. Think Marvin and Stevie, then you’re kicking. The words ˜funk-soul revue were probably created so a band like Pablo Discobar could use them. And how.

The Devil’s Song shows exactly why funk be the devil’s music – it’s so sexy it hurts, and if you don’t give into Arik’s little guitar noodling, the booty-delivering bass, those sassy horns, and Julian Feldman’s smooth vocals, then you’ve got no sex in you, baby. And you ain’t likely to get any in the near future either, unless you join the church of Pablo.

Furthermore, I Got It could be backing a wicked chase scene in a 70s cop flick, but without the cheese – it’s lean, it’s hungry, it’s insistent on being funky-as-all-hell, and by god, it’s something the Godfather himself (the late great James Brown) would be proud of. Pleasure-Come-Pain displays a slightly darker side, but is still all about brown suits, skinny ties, dark shades, and nice shoes. It’s all funk should be. Don’t Gimme The Loop and Interlude just hasten its coming.

There’s a shrine to James Brown somewhere, and Pablo Discobar have been worshipping at its feet. There’s funky, and then there’s funk-ay. Pablo Discobar own funk-ay.
- Furst Media

I said goddamn. The Kung Fu Kitchen is some seriously funk-a-licious home grown goodness. Melbourne groove meisters Pablo Discobar have produced an EP that should have The Cat Empire shaking in their two shoes. Your arse can’t help but move to Pablo’s contagiously positive vibe.

The Kung Fu master on the front cover sets the scene with his super smooth afro and sideburns. The wah wah pedal hits you immediately. Press play and be swept away to Funky Squad days. “it’s the funk soul power hour” Pablo declares at the beginning of I Won’t Beg and from there the party doesn’t stop.

Made of up eight members, Pablo Discobar has a dynamic team of talented musicians which allows them to mix a combination of styles over their solid funk platform. Five of the seven songs are singing based, but towards the end of the EP Live Now and funny political HO.WAR introduce Pablo’s rapping styles. Even if Aussie Hip-Hop is not your cup of tea, the music underneath the rhyming will win you over. Hip swinging funk is the main dish being served up in the Kung Fu kitchen. Sure, there are chillout moments, where the bass bubbles, running along out of control, and piano provides an easy feelin mood, but Pablo are at their best when serving it up hot. Rollerblades and Hot Pants is a steamy number with lyrics like “I wanna feel your nails in my shoulder…you know I’m gonna make you sweat…” no doubt provoking some dirty dance moves when played live (which is where, incidentally, you really need to catch these guys!)

The Kung Fu kitchen captures Pablo’s electrifying live element whilst allowing each instrument to shine through. The end result brings enough funk-k to rival Dr Teeth and The Electric mayhem (the band from the Muppet Show) and will no doubt propel Pablo Discobar onto bigger and better things.
- Furst Media

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. - the dwarf.com