The man was definitely not born funky. He is the son of a loving white couple from the farmlands of America who, having more sense than most, decided to abandon the Heartland to move to one of the only inhabitable places left in the Union: California.
The Funk Doc grew up in the veritable melting pot of the Bay Area battling the tyranny of Oldies and other horrid 60’s music. After hearing the Beatles’ “Love Me Do” for the 143rd time and Frankie Valli and the Four Season’s “Big Girls Don’t Cry” for the 92nd time, the man had had enough. He packed up his shit and headed for college.
At some point between high school and college, the Funk Doc had an epiphany: some music out there intrinsically makes a man want to bob his head.
Studio b11 - Weimar
Finally having been weaned from his mother’s proverbial teat, the Funk Doc flourished in college. Numerous attempts at hopping freight-trains may have been thwarted, but the funk gradually began building itself up in the young man (no relation to the Old Man or the Young Man, of course). Head-bobbing intensified, to the point where the confines of the United States proved too strict, inducing him in late 2002 to flee to one of the more unfunky places on earth. Weimar, Germany, became his new home.
Although the author does not believe in fate or her fickle fingers, it was certainly fortuitous that the Old Man happened to be living in Weimar in 2002. The two met as if by design, and with their meeting a pact of funk had been sealed. Every other Monday night from the beginning of 2003, Weimar and its surrounding area have been enveloped in an hour’s worth of smoove, unchunked, and solid American sounds. The Funk Doc’s work had been done.
For three years after that he could be seen working his magic in Berlin, but the siren song of his motherland proved too enticing. The Funk Doc's back in San Francisco, but for how long?