Growing up non-religious as I have, I've been relatively ignorant to the Good Rules that most music fails to adhere to, and hence, becomes sinful. I looked it up today on various Christian websites, supposedly based on the sole authority of the King James Bible. Dial-a-Truth Ministries, in particular, outlined several specific instructions God gave to Moses or whoever to tell the people what kind of music he likes.

Turns out that he only likes music that's about him, and how good he is. It's a bit egocentric, if you ask me, but hey, a lot of people listen to this guy, so who am I to criticize? Also, they talk about melody being the important part, but then they say that the words about God are even more important than that, and they shouldn't be unclear. What I found most interesting, though, was the complete and utter disdain God seems to have for drummers. No drums, he says. He's probably got that big book of drummer jokes in his bathroom. Did you know that you can tell when a drummer's at your door because he doesn't know when to come in? God says so!

The thing about drums, apparently, is that they are "of the flesh." Flesh, apparently, is bad. I mention all this because I would assume that God's not a fan of the "rare groove" scene. In fact, it seems that the Munich, Germany-based rare groove ensemble, the Poets of Rhythm, would probably be in Satan's record collection, especially with their brand new second LP, Discern/Define. Before the Poets of Rhythm, the rare groove scene lived on through fleshly, evil compilations, and radio shows of obscure, newly discovered funk gems from the 60's and 70's. Today, the scene is similarly carried by such blasphemers as DJ Shadow and Cut Chemist, who've performed together at Brainfreeze DJ performances, using obscure rare groove 45's as their sole spinning material. But with the Poets of Rhythm playing for the last decade or so, they hold the distinction of being the "first rare groove band."

It turns out that God also says that he only wants new songs, not old ones. So even if he could get past the indulgent, glorious rhythms of the Poets, he'd still probably be annoyed with such a nostalgic sound. As a "rare groove band," the Poets revel in the sacrilegious "old songs"; their material is newly written and original, but the sound is a clear homage to an era when funk and fusion were just becoming defined. By dubbing their outfit with such a label, they turned what was once a scene only for collectors and partygoers into a scene that includes musicians trying to keep the live energy of such grooves fresh in the amoral minds and hearts of listeners today.

On Discern/Define, the Poets recall the various artists and facets of the irreverent, profane sound they continue to shamelessly perpetuate. Tracks like "The Ham Gallery" recall the pure funk of James Brown with a smooth non-vocal assurance and a killer riff; the beautifully orchestrated, organically percussive fusion of Head Hunters-era Herbie Hancock is in full effect on "Fondle Rock" and "Plus Plus."

But perhaps most prominent on the record is the trippy flow originally birthed by early-70's Can and their inhumanly funky beat-master Jaki Leibezeit-- their fingerprints are smudged across "Moira" and "We (As a Part)." The latter features one of the album's few vocals, which generally happen to resemble Damo Suzuki's melodic moments. And the final minutes of the record pile a disorienting psychedelic delay over the band's raw drum sound for a final mind-fuck just before the silence sets in, and the devilish, diabolical desire for rhythm calls you back for more.

And so, as I've spent the day listening to Discern/Define, I've also spent the day beckoning damnation. Indulging in the aural pleasures of the flesh. Fleshly desires, you know, that sort of thing. Becoming a slave to the beat. Was it worth it for an eternity of hellfire and suffering? Gosh, I don't know. I guess I'm just not willing to wait and find out. If ol' King James doesn't like 'em, I say it's his own fault. Agnostics, ho! Groove on, Germans!

-Spencer Owen