Parliament Funkadelic

Parliament Funkadelic rolled into the Tower Theatre and turned the whole place into a funk-powered alternate dimension. The second the lights dimmed, the crowd started buzzing like we’d been plugged directly into a cosmic extension cord.

George Clinton came out with the kind of stage presence that makes the room snap to attention. At this point in his career, he doesn’t even have to say anything — he just lifts a hand and suddenly the entire building remembers its primary purpose: to get funky immediately.

The band hit the first few notes and the audience lost structural integrity. People of all ages were dancing in ways that suggested both liberation and potential muscle soreness the following morning. College kids, funk lifers, curious locals — everyone moved like gravity had been negotiated down to half-price.

They powered through classics like “Flash Light,” “One Nation Under a Groove,” and “Atomic Dog,” each one hitting with enough force to reorder your priorities. Every time the bass dropped, you could feel your organs reconsider their alignment. At one point I’m pretty sure the balcony vibrated hard enough to be categorized as a small geological event.

The musicians, as always, operated on some combination of talent, chaos, and supernatural groove energy. One moment the horns were blasting, the next a guitar solo was melting faces, then suddenly the whole band locked into a jam so tight it could’ve bent time.

Clinton occasionally stepped back, surveying the room with the satisfied grin of someone watching Earthlings be successfully converted to the Funk. When he announced we were officially “funkified,” the crowd reacted like it was a knighthood ceremony.

Leaving the theater afterward felt like returning from a funky spiritual retreat: dazed, sweaty, mildly confused, but undeniably improved as a human being.

Final verdict:

If you weren’t there, you missed a night where Parliament Funkadelic reminded OKC that funk isn’t just music — it’s a full-body cosmic experience.