The Grand Funk Brothers Get Closer to Home

I have broad musical tastes: Latin, 50s jazz, Israeli, The Great American Songbook, classical, Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys. But what concert caused me to drop everything, book vacation time and fly to Jacksonville, Florida in a state of frenzied anticipation? In three words: Grand Funk Railroad.

My brother Cooper, who lives in Florida and shares my fascination with Grand Funk, pitched me on the opportunity to hear the pride of Flint, Michigan. Of course I said yes, yes YES. How could I pass on this bucket-list thrill? In our early teens in Mission, Texas, we heard the power trio’s epochal third album, Closer to Home, and that was it. We were hooked for life on Grand Funk’s pounding, not-very-subtle sound and compelling lyrics. Well, they're compelling when you’re 14 years old, but they do sink in. Live Album, Survival, E Pluribus Funk and We’re an American Band were all on heavy rotation on our turntable at home.

The only downside for a fan: Grand Funk never worked as a teen romance mood enhancer, if you get my drift; nobody slow-danced to Grand Funk at Friday Night Lights post-game dances at the Mission Civic Center. The chicks I liked were more into the Carpenters, Carol King, the Jackson 5 and the Partridge Family (and one really liked the Edgar Winter Group). So I cooled it on Grand Funk to show enthusiasm for Top 40 favorites. That didn’t add any more teen zip to my social life, but at least I learned a lot about the Carpenters.

Besides listening to the group, I kept up with all the Grand Funk gossip. Mostly that involved their disastrous legal battles with evil genius manager Terry Knight, who fancied himself as Grand Funk's equivalent of Elvis's Col. Tom Parker. I remember one headline in Creem or, who knows, maybe Tiger Beat: "The fight to control Grand Funk!"

While Cooper heard Grand Funk in concert before, I never had. The group broke up in 1976 and spun through several reincarnations. Lead singer Mark Farner was in and out of the band as he pursued a solo career, and drummer Don Brewer and bassist Mel Schacher at one point fired Farner. I read about the band but never expected to hear them.

But then Cooper’s call came, and I answered, “Yeah baby!”

Cooper greeted me with Grand Funk t-shirts we’d wear to the concert on a Saturday night. My black shirt accessorized well with black jeans and black hiking shoes, and my well-worn Tractor Supply Company camo hat. We were ready for a road trip!

The Thrasher-Horne Center for the Arts in Orange Park was packed, 1,700 seats almost all filled. We fell into the lower end of the age distribution. I doubt 10 people there were under 40. I called the scene “rock and roll and walkers.” And that’s OK, this was a bonding experience for Baby Boomers who craved the visceral thrill of hearing Grand Funk live. And it’s a fact: Grand Funk is Homer Simpson’s favorite band.

Before the show we posed in front of the stage, with its banner celebrating the 50th anniversary of the release of  "We're An American Band." I recorded an open mic in the lobby to capture my enthusiasm for the moment. We were pleased that drummer Brewer and bassist Schacher were still touring, then disappointed to learn Schacher had been sidelined due to illness. Still, Brewer kept this from being a tribute band. 

The Grand Funk Brothers take the stage!

They mostly played songs I recognized. Cooper remembered the lyrics better than I did, singing along to “Paranoid.” We thrust our fists skyward and joined the serenade. The crowd roared when Brewer, now the Grand Old Man of Grand Funk, waved an American flag and wore an Uncle Sam stovepipe hat. The big finale was, of course, “Closer to Home,” then “American Band.”

Don Brewer goes All-American

Back home in Katonah, I told friends about my experience. Several guys responded with wild enthusiasm; Closer to Home was the first album friend ever bought.

For one night, I was back in 1972, 15 again. Unsure of myself, hormonally addled, I responded to songs like “Heartbreaker” and “I Can Feel Him in the Morning,” with a children's spoken intro with the haunting line "if you're good, you'll live forever, and if you're bad, you'll die when you die." For a teen dealing with a serious crisis of faith, that song meant something.

Hearing Grand Funk struck me with the notion of getting “closer to home.” I remembered my family, my friends, the turmoil of being young in a small town. Maybe we cannot, ultimately, go home again, but with Grand Funk’s musical support I can get closer to home.

Afterward, I wrote haiku poems about the Florida experience. Here’s one of them:

Closer to Home means—

What? I never really know but

I keep wondering

The current incarnation of The American Band.