Starchildren, funketeers, people of Taipei, do not attempt to adjust your extrasensory preceptors! There is nothing wrong! Four soul brothers and one sweet soul sister are in the Hyatt, and they have taken control as to deliver to you this special show. But don't worry! They will return you to your rightful senses, once you are groovy.
We're talking about Ges Werk at Ziga Zaga. They've arrived on that strange circuit that takes acts international, putting them in resorts and discos in the most bizarre time zones. They've played Norwegian Cruise Lines. They've done wars in Sarejevo and Somalia. For many years now, they've been under contract to the US armed forces. In all, their gigs have taken them around the world five or six times. Now, their soul, funk, and rhythm is at Ziga Zaga, where they play six nights a week. Don't scoff. Not many other bands in Taipei play six nights a week, so they gotta be one of the hardest working bands around.
Anything else weird about them? How about this — they're coming to you straight from Omaha, Nebraska, where the feeling is mutual. Omaha? “Actually, that's just our base right now. We got shipped here with the prime beef,” says lead guitar and sax player Bruce Guichard. He's originally from New Orleans, as is keyboard player Darryl Harry.
But if you want to talk pedigree, talk about the young Darryl. He was there for the original P-funk tour when the mothership dropped out of a great applejack hat above the stage to bring the earth children back home. And he was there, “maybe it was 1973 or 74”, when Isaac Hayes battled Barry White to see who could be the Black Moses.
“Isaac came on, and I tell you, he was the shit!” says Darryl. “You know, he had just done Shaft and he had that deep voice and everybody, well, they just thought of him as the Black Moses. He just went out there and played 'Do Your Thing', the whole flip side of that LP. Hmm-mm.”
“But then Barry White came out,” Darryl continues, “he drove out on stage in a white Rolls Royce, and the orchestra started playing. He opened the door, and out came a leg, and then the white cane. You know? I mean everything was white. There were violins and everything. And suddenly it was like — it was like Isaac Hayes was bullshit. I tell you, Barry White. He just had more class. I lost five dollars on that, because I bet on Isaac Hayes.”
That was a long time before Darryl founded Ges Werk in 1989 along with Bruce and his wife, Angela Harry. She's the beautiful woman on the microphone with the Tina Turner hairdo, the spangled dress, and the booming voice. She says they landed in Taipei, because “we've got a good agent.”
As in, how bad can life be living for three months in the Grand Hyatt, playing music for three hours a night, and getting paid on top of it? “Man, I spend just about all my time here,” grins bass player Thomas Wells, who's sipping on something tall, chocolatey and frothy in the second floor hotel lounge just outside Ziga Zaga. Darryl, meanwhile, twirls his snifter of cognac as Angela sips a glass of wine.
“We try to get out all we can,” says Bruce, who's kind of like the band's de facto PR man. They've made their way to Tanshui and most of the major stops in Taipei. They also love the nearby Tunhua night market, except that Angela can never find shoes that fit. “There's always one lil' piece of my foot hanging off the back,” she says.
“Yeah, she has big feet,” laughs her husband Darryl.
And what about the music? “Well, we can't play everything we want to, like all the funk and soul,” says Darryl. “We have to play more the music they want us to play.” So sure, they play the limbo rock and a bunch of other crowd pleasers. But it doesn't detract much, because the energy is always there and non-stop, literally. During a set, the music never stops. Not for one single instant. They play five sets between ten and two thirty, taking breaks that are hardly long enough to drink a beer. And even if some of the tunes are a little poppy, they get everyone involved and keep the good vibe going. Of course, they also mix it up with James Brown, Little Milton, and some of other uncut funk. Every once in a while, they'll even throw in an original number, of which they've put out at least one CD's worth.
Any last words? “The women here are gorgeous!” says Bruce, speaking of Taipei. It's hard to argue with him, spending six nights a week — two ladies nights included — as he does in Ziga Zaga. Of course, he has to follow it up with a sigh, “It's hard being a married man.”
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