Baby Charles are a contemporary British deep funk outfit, and from the evidence of their self-titled debut, it seems impossible to assume it was recorded anywhere other than 1970s New Orleans. The hazy thickness of the record feels like a fever dream of blaxploitation funk, the kind of sound your reptilian memory bank automatically associates with Quentin Tarantino soundtracks. There is nothing academic about any of this, however. Where many live funk groups see their best efforts wilted by a certain "earnest conservatory student" vibe, Baby Charles effortlessly summon the sort of unholy, sweat-in-uncomfortable-places funkiness you probably thought hadn't survived past 1978.
A big part of this is due to their looseness. Baby Charles have an intuitive feel for the sweet spot of funk, pitched between the broad and the obsessively narrowed-down, and once they hit this magic pocket, they never stray far. Each groove is a monstrous, dopamine-flooding marvel, with peals of Hammond organ firing behind low, hard blues-guitar licks and a horn section unafraid to let things get a little messy. Dionne Charles' full-throated soul howl is what puts everything over the top-- her wail fits perfectly into the generous space the band clears out for it but never takes center stage. Nobody stands out too much or gets in anyone else's way, which means every single groove surges forward with pulverizing force.
Indeed, sometimes things get so monolithic that Baby Charles starts to resemble a different kind of 70s record. "Life's Begun" is powered by a guitar riff that could be sent directly to Black Sabbath, Vol. 4, while the drummer works a circling battering ram of percussion that recalls "Manic Depression" as much as the Meters. Charles dispenses generic soul-mama wisdom-- "Don't be keeping up with those Joneses," she warns-- but her growl is so hair-raising that words are rendered irrelevant. "Coming From a Higher Place" dispenses with lyrics entirely, opening a blasting, horn-and-flutes fanfare before segueing into a manic organ chug. This album begs to be sampled by enterprising hip-hop producers-- there are dozens of potential Just Blaze tracks here, for example-- and a big part of the fun is closing your eyes and imagining which rappers could flatten which beats. Wale high-stepping over "Step On"! Bun B punishing the huge empty spaces on "Life's Begun"! Nas brooding over the smoky "This Time"!
Baby Charles also cover the Arctic Monkeys' "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor", and they find an easy slinkiness in the groove that feels right for Alex Turner's sidelong, cutting observations. The fact that they also find room for a funky trombone solo and make it back to the chorus without getting lost is testament to their discipline and control, and is more proof that off of the strength of their first album, Baby Charles belong with Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings and precious few others in a discussion of modern funk bands that feel like something other than a pallid imitation.
