Unsung is a feature in which I take a look at a pop culture phenomenon (be it music, TV, literary, whatever) that has been forgotten or underappreciated. In this installment, I look at the album Platinum Jive by Detroit sludge-funk act Big Chief.
The late '80s saw a proliferation of funk-rock bands getting various degrees of attention: the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Faith No More, Living Colour and Fishbone were the most notable, but there were others like the Royal Crescent Mob and 24-7 Spyz (whose first singer Peter Forrest, aka P. Fluid, was brutally murdered in New York last week).
Another act combining heavy guitar rock with funk was Big Chief, which was formed in 1989 by Michigan hardcore punk veterans Barry Henssler on vocals (formerly of the Necros), Mark Dancey (Born Without a Face) and Phil Durr (Dharma Bums, Motorhome) on guitar, Matt O'Brien (McDonalds) on bass and Mike Danner (Laughing Hyenas) on drums. The band was heavily influenced by Funkadelic's early work, as well as '70s funk and Blaxploitation movies. They generated some major label interest before they even released anything but released singles on indie labels before signing with Sub Pop for a Singles Club release.
Big Chief compiled its early singles on the album Drive It Off, which was released in 1991 on the indie Get Hip. The band's debut album Face was released in Germany in '91 and on Sub Pop in May '92. The band combined Sabbath-esque sludge riffs with funk groove. Although the album didn't catch on with the grunge-splosion that was underway, the band scored an opening slot for the Beastie Boys, who were touring behind Check Your Head, an album that also explored funk and hardcore punk influences.
For their next album, Big Chief tried to set themselves apart from the grunge hordes by embracing the '70s funk and R&B they loved with a concept album: 1993's Mack Avenue Skullgame was a soundtrack to a fictional blaxploitation flick about a pimp. Released on Sub Pop, the album presented the band as a more than just another guitar band, but it didn't get much attention. Which is too bad, because it was really good.
The band signed a major label deal with Capitol Records and released 1994's Platinum Jive, which was another high-concept effort. Subtitled Greatest Hits 1969-1999, the album was marketed by Capitol as grunge, but it actually explored a number of genres as it tracked "hits" from the various fictional albums made by the band (as well as from solo projects) over a 30-year period, including five years that hadn't happened yet. There's crunching riff rock ("Lion's Mouth," "Armed Love," "Lot Lizard"), hip hop ("Bona Fide," written and rapped by Schooly D), funk-rock raveups ("All Downhill From Here"), flute-driven funk whimsy ("The Liquor Talkin'"), rumbling grunge ("Locked Out"), some out-there instrumentals ("MD 20/20" and "Clown Pimp") and even a nod to '70s loverman R&B ("Simply Barry").
The fake liner notes perpetuate the concept, noting that the songs come from albums like 1999's Bright Future Behind You, Titty Twist Whitey (1969), Midwest Rules (1977), We Gotta Impeach Nixon (1973), Groove Factory (1995), Fool's Gold (1972), Inhale to the Chief (1974) and How the West Was Lost (1969), as well as solo albums like Barry Henssler: The Sexual Intellectual (1983).
I had heard of the band in '93 when a co-worker got a cassette for Mack Avenue Skullgame from Sub Pop, where his sister worked. A year later, I saw the video for "Lion's Mouth" on MTV's 120 Minutes and went and bought the Platinum Jive CD, which I enjoyed immensely. However, the general public didn't get the joke and the album quickly came and went. Big Chief supported the album by opening for the Cult.
The band split up in 1996, although it kept publishing a fanzine called Motorbooty, which was launched in 1987 and ran until 1999 and featured illustrations from Mark Dancey. The band backed up Thornetta Davis, who had provided backing vocals on a few of their songs, on her 1996 album Sunday Morning Music. Henssler worked as a DJ in Chicago clubs, and O'Brien and Durr played in other bands. In 2019, Durr died of a heart attack at age 53.
They weren't around for too long, but Big Chief provided some good genre-jumping hot rock in their day.
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