For Seaside Cannabis’s holiday pahty - a rockin mash-up of friends, neighbors, and anyone with a taste for good grass, ribs, and a reason to shake off December’s chill - Funktapuss stood as the evening’s engine: familiar, seasoned, driving, and perfectly post disco. Orleans’s Alley felt less like the bowling-and-BBQ spot and more like a crowded house party with purpose. Kudos to the genius who staged the band in the center lanes rather than to the side. Was that you, Dave?
Behind a brand spankin new drum kit drenched in purple and crowned with a mirrored kick that flecks ambient light through the set, Brad Conant anchored the band with something close to disciplined joy. Conant’s drum work - informed by years of orchestral, jazz, and session experience - felt less “backbeat” and more structure missionary. The result was swinging, dance-ready music that sounded both celebratory and sophisticated, disco with impeccable timing and a big band’s confidence.
Science has occasionally hinted that rhythm-keepers exercise some kind of analytical precision1. Researchers suggest drummers’ neural infrastructure may favor complex problem-solving and timing acuity - but at The Alley, you didn’t need to read the studies to find the point: the drums felt like the compass, and Conant, by temperament a people-pleaser first, seemed intent on turning that compass toward the crowd.
The Funktapuss Band - long tenured in the Cape scene with a roster that’s evolved over decades with a revolving door of players and influences - leaned into it. Horns cut through brisk takes on 70s, 80s, and 90s favorites with brassy runs that fell in line with the operation - peoples was swingin. Guitar and bass were there to groove; vocals pulled the songs with just enough familiarity to feel like shared memories. Funktapuss’s resume on the local circuit - from bars to festivals and social gigs - was palpable with how easy they toggled between dance floor numbers and crowd-pleasing rhythms2.
The Alley itself was packed - the sort of sweep where the bartenders and servers move with their own choreography - or maybe that’s how it looked after a couple trips to the trailer. Entry asked for either two canned goods or a modest five bucks, and with that the house had set out a killer spread: ribs, pulled pork, and sauces in generous measure. The room filled up, and once it did, it stayed that way - gravitate to the funk!
It was a party first, a set second, and somewhere in the middle, a reminder that our live music circles remain both social ritual and communal heartbeat. If you missed this one, look up Funktapuss’s calendar they’re out there keeping the floors full.
