There was a rapping at my door as I slept the morning away, recovering from another night steeped in the exhaustions of too much weed, booze and sex. I opened the door, fully prepared to blast the interloper with full abuse for awakening me... but, alas, no one stood in the portal. Upon my doormat, instead, lay a brown envelope with the words "drink me" written across it in blue ink.

I opened the envelope and discovered a disc inside: Groove Collective's Declassified. I wondered how I could possibly drink a compact disc, and what could be meant by the quizzical message. I scratched my butt- crack, picked a booger, and loaded the mysterious disc into the player. As I listened, I read about the Collective.

So few "collectives" actually embody the meaning of the word, but with 14 members, Groove Collective seems to have that part sewn up tight. And the music bursting out of my speakers belied the many hands and influences involved in the making of this record. What blasted my eardrums that morning was funk, my friend. Funk. Yet, it comprised so much more than just routine funk-- the myriad of players and influences gave Declassified a satisfying freak that few modern purveyors of funk can claim.

Declassified played only a few minutes before my bedmate realized I had pitched a tent. The tunes were that lusty, filled with instruments and sensibilities that played like the Kama Sutra on both my noggin and my knob. I threw the sheets aside and proceeded to whack it absent- mindedly while listening, revelling in the effortless blending of dancehall, trip-hop, Afro-pop, pure funk and every other phat groove you can think of.

The songs range from high- energy, shake- yer- money- maker party grooves, to mellow, soul- jazz stylings softer than the hair on the base of mah lady's back. Declassified is modern funk that's not afraid to integrate with every other influence held dear by each of its 14 members. And rather than sounding schizophrenic, as these things often do, it's fun, eclectic and wicked groovy. The music grabbed my attention with such force that I had to let mah girl finish me off, and did she indeed! Chestnut!

This all got me to thinkin' about the cryptic note on the envelope, and I think I've begun to understand. Declassified is so smooth, so sweet- n- creamy, that it felt like a warm, milky liquid leaking into my ears. Understanding? Perhaps. Drink me? Yes, drink me.

-James P. Wisdom