In one of his manifestos, MonoNeon vows to keep the Funk at the bottom and the experiments on top. His Paris show at the Alhambra was a vivid embodiment of that philosophy: a rock-solid Rhythm and Blues foundation infused with the bassist's trademark eccentricity. Don’t let the oblique humor and surreal antics distract you—this is deep, unfiltered Funk, steeped in killer hooks and a groove so relentless it seemed to ripple through the room like a living force. But this isn’t just Funk; it’s the work of a conceptual artist who bends genres and traditions like light through a prism. It’s no surprise George Clinton, the godfather of funkified extravagance, lent his voice to MonoNeon’s latest album, Quilted Stereo. The connection is clear: both are torchbearers of an avant-Funk lineage that runs through Sun Ra, Sly Stone, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, and Dr. John—pioneers of the weird, wild, and transcendent.
On stage, MonoNeon’s unorthodox bass technique churned out slabs of low-end thunder, each note sculpting the foundations of a groove so heavy it felt like it was anchoring the cosmos. Surrounding him, his band wove a dazzling web of tight, kinetic interplay, with every sharp snare hit and warped keyboard line seeming to pull the audience deeper into the music’s gravitational pull. The Alhambra crowd came ready to move, and move they did—feet stomping, bodies swaying, the entire room vibrating as if caught in a collective spell. Under the kaleidoscopic glow of his surrealistic psychotronic compositions, a veritable Zappa-esque avalanche of sounds and ideas, the audience was transported to a place where groove reigns supreme and life is a glittery fuckery.
