Bootsy's back, baba — but then again, he never really left the mothership. Ever since Fresh Outta “P” University dropped in 1997 and reminded everyone he could still bring the funk in a post-G-Funk world, William “Bootsy” Collins has kept one eye on the rearview mirror and one platform boot on the gas. But while The Power of the One (2020) and Worldwide Funk (2017) tried to straddle past and present with uneven results, Album of the Year #1 Funkateer aims for something more cohesive — even if it doesn’t always land on the one.
Let’s get this outta the way: no, this is not a return to Bootsy? Player of the Year (1978). The comparison stops at the title. That record was all rubbery basslines and P-Funk swagger, laced with blacklight bedroom vibes and bass solos for days. This one sees Bootsy navigating a 21st-century soundscape where trap hi-hats, auto-tuned croons, and feature-stacked tracklists rule the roost.
Which is kind of the issue.
Because while Bootzilla still has that Space Bass magic — yes, he plays on this one, even though his illness prevents him from gigging — the overabundance of guest stars sometimes sucks the oxygen out of what could’ve been a leaner, meaner funk attack. We’ve got Snoop Dogg, Ice Cube, Wiz Khalifa, Dave Stewart, Myra Washington, Buckethead, Harry Mack, and more — a lineup that reads like a festival poster but sometimes plays like a mixtape.
That said, when it hits, it slaps.
The opening title track, featuring Bootdullivan (a Bootsy alter ego? a joke? a mystery?) and the powerhouse Myra Washington, is a glorious wall of sound — P-Funk by way of digital production. There’s distorted Mutronic bass, helium-voiced vocal stabs, filtered synth washes, and Bootsy’s cosmic gibberish poetry echoing from all corners of the stereo field. It’s chaotic, dense, and joyful — basically everything you want from a Bootsy intro.
Then comes “The JB’s Tribute,” which does exactly what it says on the tin. With drummer Daru Jones holding it down and samples from the late, great Clyde Stubblefield holding court, the track lurches and snaps like a modern-day “Pass the Peas.” Fred Wesley — yes, that Fred Wesley — pops in for a few bars of trombone glory, and Harry Mack delivers a playful rap that doesn’t overstay its welcome. It’s a banger… until it isn’t. The track loses steam in the second half and never quite delivers the climax it promises.
“Bootdullivan is Soopafly” is the album’s first slow jam detour, evoking those sleepy, weed-smoked Funkadelic ballads from America Eats Is Young. There’s an undeniable charm to the vocal harmonies, and the outro chant begs for a live call-and-response moment we’ll sadly never get.
“The Influencers” brings Snoop Dogg and Wiz Khalifa into the room, but the backing track is frustratingly bland — a generic, vaguely sexy R&B groove that sounds like a leftover from a late-aughts Timbaland session. Snoop, ever the pro, floats on it with his usual charisma, but even he can’t inject much life into it.
And then comes “Bubble Pop.” Featuring Ice Cube, Fantaazma, and Brother Nature (again with the comic-book aliases), this track is either a party or a puzzle, depending on your mood. The flute riff is legit — a sticky little hook that worms its way in — but the track overstays its welcome by about two minutes and gets lost in its own kitchen-sink mix. Ice Cube sounds like he's having fun, though, and that counts for something.
“Fishnets” is a wake-up call. Hard, dirty funk with no apologies. Myra Washington absolutely demolishes her vocal, channeling Chaka Khan energy with Betty Davis attitude. This is the kind of track that makes you wish the whole album ditched the star-studded circus and just let a band play.
“Satellite,” on the other hand, is the album’s oddball gem. With Dave Stewart on guitar, the song crashes funk into alt-rock with surprisingly successful results. It feels like it could have landed on a ‘90s Lenny Kravitz B-side — and I mean that in the best possible way.
From there, the record veers into heavier territory. “Ubiquitous” is a thick slab of funk metal doom, recalling Bootsy’s work with Praxis, Science Faxtion, and Zillatron. It’s ugly, slow, and glorious — an echo from an alternate universe where Bootsy joined Nine Inch Nails in 1996.
Unfortunately, the next stretch of tracks kills the momentum.
“Hundo P” and “Chicken & Fries” are pure filler. The former sounds like an AI-generated “Bootsy feat. Snoop” joint, and the latter — despite some fun wordplay — has one of the most forced choruses Bootsy’s ever recorded. It’s like when Prince decided he could rap and everyone just kinda let him.
Then “Pure Perfection” arrives and… it almost lives up to its name. A slow soul jam that channels I'd Rather Be With Youand Vanish in Our Sleep, it builds patiently, layers on instrumentation like a slow burn, and finally delivers a gorgeous, albeit too short, bass solo. And then it just fades out. Fades out. Criminal.
“Anybody Out There” is another Myra Washington showcase, and she once again elevates the material. The understated guitar is a nice touch. Shame about the sequencing, because by this point, the album’s buried its energy under a mountain of slow jams.
“Bewild,” “Alien Flytrap,” and “Reach The Zone” are all various shades of moody and psychedelic, but none of them justify their length. “Bewild” has some cool ideas but no real structure. “Alien Flytrap” is all texture, no melody. “Reach the Zone” just drifts.
Thankfully, “2Nite We Rise” claws us back. It’s still slow, but it’s big — quasi-Gospel in structure, with an emotional chorus and actual melodic development. This should’ve closed the album. But wait, Bootsy’s got more weirdness up his sleeve.
“I.Am.Ai” is a short avant-funk space poem with old-timey jazz piano thrown in for good measure. If Bill Laswell and Sun Ra had a baby and gave it an MPC, it might sound like this.
And finally: “Barbie T and Me (Tribute to Buckethead)” is heavy funky and features a killer Buckethead shredding sesh. But it also feels more like a sketch than a statement — an homage to “Maggot Brain” in form but not in soul. Still, it’s a fun way to end things, and that solo does rip.
Album of the Year #1 Funkateer isn’t a masterpiece — hell, it’s not even Bootsy’s best 21st-century album — but it is a reminder that Bootsy Collins is still out there doing Bootsy things. It’s overstuffed, inconsistent, and a bit indulgent… but isn’t that kind of the point?
The funk is still strong in this one — it’s just been filtered through a few too many guest verses and not enough rehearsals. At its best, it’s a reminder that Bootsy Collins is a genre unto himself. At its worst, it’s background music for a cartoon funk party you forgot you were invited to.
Release date: April 11th, 2025
Produced by: Bootsy Collins
Label: Bootzilla Records / Equity Distribution
Rating: 6/10
