Mark Twain and James Brown: Soul Mates
The link between Humor and Funky Music
What makes humor funny? What makes it work? Oftentimes it’s when the comedian writes, says, or does something unexpected, grotesquely exaggerates or, on the other hand, dramatically understates a matter (calling the loss of a limb simply a flesh wound, for example). It is widely recognized, too, that, in humor (even more than most other endeavors) timing is, if not everything, vitally important.
The appeal of funky music — or in case funky music doesn’t appeal to you, what makes funky music funky (as opposed to mellow or smooth or calming) — is very similar: unexpected notes, exaggerated pauses or emphasis, and the precise timing of when/where the notes land.
So in both disciplines (humor and funk), three elements can inject the flavor or feel that makes something either funny or funky: Timing, exaggeration/outsized emphasis, and the unexpected.
That may be somewhat easy for me to write, but what about proving my hypothesis? I will present a couple of examples, using as exhibits Mark Twain — who was called “The King” long before Elvis caught a rabbit or got caught in a trap — and James Brown, the “godfather of soul” (or, more accurately, I think, the founding father of funk — after all, J.B. had songs named Make It Funky, Funky President, and Funky Drummer, just to name three, and he once said, in a nutshell: “Whatever I play, it’s got to be funky!”).
For the Twain/humor example, take a listen to his speech “Advice to Youth” which I recorded (shown below). For some reason, it’s relatively popular, with almost 8,000 listens, which is approximately 8,000 more than most of my other Twain recordings. If you want to “cut to the chase,” the first unexpected part — intending, at least, to elicit a laugh — begins at the 0:53 mark. As for timing, Twain was known for talking very slowly and never letting on that he knew what he was saying was funny; his monologues were delivered in a deadpan way, thus making the humor all the more absurd-sounding.
So what about the timing, exaggeration, and unexpectedness in funk[y] music? There are many examples, which you are free to search out on your own, but one especially good clue I can give you as to what to include in your search phrase is the name “James Brown.” One song of Brown’s in particular that fills the bill is “Cold Sweat,” whose bass line you can listen to from the 4:44 mark below.
Note how at the start of the second bar, there’s a giant jump, or big drop, in the notes (rectangled in red below). Instead of a small or moderate change in notes, as is the norm in most music, it’s as if the melody the bass is playing is suddenly yanked off a cliff and lands with a thud on a ledge below before picking itself back up and climbing back up a bit:
As to the timing, that “jarring” note is played on the upbeat (on the “one-AND”), not right on the beat. Almost all music is syncopated (with some of the notes being played on the upbeat, not all of them on the downbeats only), but funk is especially noteworthy (no pun intended) for its emphatic use of the upbeats, often leaving the downbeats (with the exception of “the ONE” at the start of a musical phrase) unplayed.
And here’s the second part of that song, which is even heavier on the upbeats, along with a delayed “oomph” emphasis:
Note that this part starts with a very similar pattern as the previous one (although two frets lower), but then, from the “unexpected” department, no note is played on beat three — only on the upbeat. IOW, where it’s “three-and” on the first riff, it’s simply “[rest]-AND” immediately above. This funkifies (syncopates) the line as well as surprises the listener, albeit probably subliminally, as most are not saying to themselves, “Okay, Mr. bassman is now going to play a note on beat 3.” Our subconscious, at least, knows it, though, and it’s usually our subconscious that decides whether we like a particular piece of art or not, rather than some reasoned-out rationale by our conscious, “logical” brain. Nobody can really say why they like or dislike a certain song or painting or poem — they just do (or don’t).
For another example, here’s “Funky President” from the 11:21 mark in the same youtube video, which spills out these notes:
The “one” (the D#/Eb note on beat one at the start of the phrase, played on fret 6 of the A string) is indeed played, as is the norm in funk, but otherwise almost every note is played on the upbeat (syncopated). You could listen to the entire video and see that these funky James Brown bass lines all exhibit the qualities of notes being emphasized in unexpected ways (which ones get the “oomph”), when they are played (timing) being key to the feel, and what is played (the note itself) being often unexpected or even somewhat jarring, or jerky, sounding (causing sensitive souls to want to get up and dance/shake their tail feathers).
Is funky music funny? It can be. Take a listen to the beginning of “Make It Funky” by — as you might have reckoned, James Brown — or to “Do the Funky Chicken.”
Is, on the other hand, humor funky? Sometimes. In fact, as some people say that “music is math” it can also be said that humor is funk[y]. It needs to be; otherwise, it wouldn’t be humorous (usually meaning that unexpected words and phrases and inflections are used, unique emphasis is placed, and impeccable timing is implemented).
Mark Twain and James Brown? They did the same thing, basically.
