No Faking the Funk: Orange County's Funk Freaks Keeps it Real

Sometimes music brings people together or saves them in unimaginable ways. For others, it evokes sentiment as a reminder of family and culture. For the Funk Freaks, a DJ collective and record shop based out of Santa Ana, funk music encompasses it all.

Funk is a part of Orange County Chicanx culture, explains Funk Freaks founding member Ivan Marquez. He tapped into funk music from older siblings, and it echoed from neighbors' homes, kickbacks and family gatherings. His younger brother, Robert Marquez or "Luer" affirms that the music, lifestyle and challenges are wrapped into appreciation and respect.

Funk Freaks is a crew recognized internationally with chapters even in Europe, but more locally, the DJs welcome fellow crate diggers to their shop, Funk Freaks Records in Santa Ana. Rows of records are displayed next to men's branded apparel and a women's boutique a few doors down. On top of the record store, the crew also throws their seminal vinyl parties. The crew has a lot of projects in the works, but it all began simply, at a party.

The Party That Started It All

The DJ collective was conceived 13 years ago when Marquez, also known by his DJ handle "Debo," David "Loser" Diaz and his older brother Unic, a tattoo artist revered as "The Teacher," were asked to deejay a birthday party. At least 250 people showed up in a backyard. "It was full of mucho acquaintances," says Debo, but felt familial.

"It was cracking," Loser adds, remarking on how people felt seen and heard in the music. There weren't many parties like that in Orange County at the time. The set opened with underground hip hop and West Coast rap but what made it different was the element of funk. Pure funk hits with discordant rhythms that gear up and "slap," as they coin it, with expansive drums and synths that bounce between syncopated bass lines and layered acoustics. It ranges from classic tunes like Parliament's "Agony of Defeet," Funkadelic's' "Give up the Funk" or the soulful Bar Kays' "Nightcruising" and transcends to complex numbers with "Part Time Lover" by Funk Deluxe and the sublime electro vibration Antoniou's "Street Sound."

Debo decided to bring some funk records with him that night in May. It was an all-vinyl set, no Serato. By 10 p.m., they had the crowd's attention, and the dance floor was in full swing as they delivered funk jams.

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It was an unusual event. At the time, stigmas attached to funk music would make it difficult to secure a night at a venue in the city. Strict dress codes — prohibited jerseys and specific colors — reinforced racial and cultural profiling. In Orange County, a history of oppressive measures such as a segregated education system, "zero-tolerance" gang injunctions and law enforcement investigations only served to target Latinx youth further.

"Either you chose to join a gang, become a graffiti writer or hit the books. It was a rite of passage. It is a whole different life out here. We lived with parents and relatives associated with gangs, so it sticks with you," says Debo admittedly. "It was on us to make the best decisions — and music was a [chance] to be ourselves. We honed it and made it ours."

For these DJs, graffiti became an outlet, and so did the music.

The Orange County of Funk

Raised in Costa Mesa, the DJs were influenced by the beach side's punk and rock, a blend of sweet soul moving through genres rooted in hip hop like Gang Starr and Group Home. It was also the music of the past that made an impression, evocative of youthful memories cruising down Bristol Street. In the late '70s, boogie funk arrived, the post-disco era championed a merging of synthesizers, drum fills and slap bass, sprawling across experimental instrumentation. Then, G-funk emerged in the '90s with artists RBL Posse, Spanish FLY and Central Coast Clique, sampling music from funk, R&B and electro.

Santa Ana, which is 76% Latinx, is the epicenter of Orange County funk. Passed down from generation to generation, "kids from elementary school will be singing along to rare funk songs like it's implanted in their heads at a super young age," says Loser. Tracks like the 1982 funk hit "It's On" by Wizard "gives me goosebumps," Debo says. More typical songs, "Feel my Love" by Vaughan Mason and Long Beach's P-funk sextet Kiddo "Try My Loving" are commonly known.

"It is easier for the youth to assimilate to songs from the '80s," adds Debo, where themes of love and heartbreak resonate. "It is raw."

Loser's father passed away when he was young, so he and his family ended up living in different neighborhoods in Orange County. Each one, says Loser, "bumped" West Coast hip hop and funk. His interest in music piqued with trips to the swap meet or Costa Mesa's once iconic record store Noise Noise Noise and Fountain Valley's Dr. Freecloud's. His early days of digging were formative, in a sense he was learning what types of music drew him in. He caught "the bug."

A Sesame Street turntable would introduce Debo to his first stages of deejaying. He was six years old.

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"After that, we had a radio system that my pops got. It had a whole cassette, radio amp and turntable on top," he says. "I used to have a collection of Chipmunk LPs that I loved." It progressed from there. His older brother's friend was incarcerated and needed a space to house his DJ equipment. Debo, who shared his room with Luer, willingly volunteered. He'd wake up at 4 a.m., hours before school started, just to get his hands on the tables. "I didn't know what I was doing," he shares, "but I was intrigued."

When Debo landed his first job and first paycheck, he knew he wanted the DJ Craze box set that included a mixer, two headphones and two turntables. His mom, who witnessed this devotion, supported him and helped him make the purchase. He paid her back in total, and a path in music was set into motion.

Music reverberated throughout the house. Roger Troutman's greatest hits played on a three-year rotation in the family bathroom. Morning routines embraced the funk. "It was like an escape from reality," Debo says.

Not Faking the Funk

When the tight-knit crew decided to become official, they turned to the seminal album "Stone Killers" by Prince Charles and the City Beat Band. Lyrics from the track entitled "Don't Fake the Funk" reflected how they saw themselves.

"We call it our street funk bible," says Debo, proclaiming their commitment. "It expresses who we are. We geek out and we freak out 24/7, every day of the year."

The Funk Freaks were moved by burgeoning DJ crews such as the Los Angeles' Beat Junkies and applied their mixing and blending skills to techniques in funk.

Their first night kicked off at Malone's, then rotated venues until they landed their most extended residency at Original Mike's in Santa Ana. It wasn't easy; owners were hesitant to play entire sets of funk music. "We could only play few jams and then had to cut it," says Loser, adding, "it was considered cholomusic."

Yet they pushed on and showed up, unapologetically. "One time we played at a small bar and people were pretty much dancing on a pool table, but we kept it going," Loser says.

They quickly cultivated a following — fans took to their deejaying and turned into regulars at their parties.

A Perspective Across the Atlantic

A move to Spain would introduce Debo to different regional styles of funk but also change the Funk Freaks trajectory. In 2011, the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act (RICO) impacted Debo personally. The federal clampdown targeted his older brother under an Orange Country gang investigation known as "Operation Black Flag." Debo wanted to get away, even temporarily, and left for Barcelona with his then wife. "Association alone could get you arrested," Debo laments.

It was eye-opening.

While in a new country, Luer and Loser led the Funk Freaks domestically. Debo met other artists and DJs globally. While record shopping abroad, Debo would take the measure of these other DJs, taking note of the music they chose to see if they passed his test. "I ended up devoting myself to making the crew bigger," says Debo, intending to bridge the gap between Europe and California.

"If you were to compare any other city that was devoted to preserving funk, it would be Lyon, France where Algerian [migrants] gravitated towards '80s funk."

Debo speaks about marginalized groups, both in the states and abroad, identifying how shared hardships and struggles can communicate through music.

"It was the vinyl that brought us all together," says Debo, which eventually led to their expansion, but it was the sense of shared pride that held it together. "We are Mexican Americans and Chicanos that started this. We play music by Black artists, and we derive from graffiti, hip hop, tattooing and Lowrider culture."

Yet, the new members found a commonality that was "grounded in the streets."

A Friendship Grounded in the Streets

Their crew has expanded with 12 solid standing DJs in Southern California, branching out from Orange County to Bakersfield and Riverside. Funk Freaks chapters currently stretch to Europe in Saarbrücken, Frankfurt, Hamburg, Berlin, Amsterdam and parts of Sweden, Russia, Norway and France. Debo sometimes makes the initial introduction with DJs through Facebook. They plan excursions, make the trek and drop sets together. This natural exchange and symmetry are how the Funk Freaks have grown in membership.

Riverside's Ryan Guzman (Ryan G) met Debo a decade ago at the Beat Swap Meet in Los Angeles — a destination for Southern California record diggers. After purchasing an exclusive album by The Funky Drive Band from Debo's collection, the two met up and hit it off. "We both came from graffiti backgrounds. It's not very often you meet someone you have so much in common with," says Ryan G, who would play at the Funk Freaks party in Orange County several times before he was asked to join the collective.

The Riverside chapter also holds down a monthly residency. At the first event in Riverside, Egyptian Lover performed, and since then, the deejays from this part of town have watched the birth of obscure songs like "Press Play" by XL Middleton + Eddy Funkster become popular in crowds more familiar with mainstream funk music.

"If you were to tell me that 25 years ago that I would be deejaying music inspired by artists my parents listened to — Rick James, George Clinton and The Gap Band — I wouldn't believe it," says Ryan G. "This music is embedded in you. It gives an energy that feels familiar."

This past month, they lost a friend and longtime member Michael Rivera, affectionately known as DJ Bosoe.

"Music transcends over decades," says Ryan G. "We knew we had a unique formula that would allow us to represent our city and keep on going. We are each other's biggest cheerleaders, and it makes us want to elevate ourselves, our record collection and do our absolute best."

A funk-fueled milieu has connected international DJs to the West Coast. Mikael Zorken, a Funk Freaks member from Stockholm, says he and Debo met through social media in 2016. They visited each other's home's, and during one of Zorken's stays, Debo gave him the option to deejay an early set or "prime time" at a Funk Freaks party at Original Mike's. Of course, he chose the latter. "I will never forget dropping the needle on Tom Sanders' 'Sweetman DJ' as the first tune for a totally packed dance floor," Zorken says.

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, European chapters and local members were mapping out new spaces, digging together, booking DJ gigs — and developing a fan base. Loser recalls a group following them from Paris to Berlin. "It was pretty cool to see love from people I had never met," he shares.

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Like unearthing anthems from a vault, history is revived when legendary artists reclaim the stage after years removed from the industry. Some highlights at the Funk Freaks party include DJ Ago from Italy and Ameega helming from France. Artists Carol Shinnette, known for her 1984 song "Cyanide Love" was flown out; the cool funk Howard Johnsonperformed and their idol Prince Charles made an appearance. It means a lot to the crew. "Everybody back in the day put heart into their music," says Luer, and some performers are unaware and surprised when they find out their records are now worth $800 and streamed on iTunes.

Their monthly parties maintain the same energy and expectations. "I call it 'Night at the Apollo,'" says Debo. "If you don't kill it, people will walk off stage." Their advice: Don't play anything super slow. Keep it on a high BPM, anything boogie, electro — people like to dance and break a sweat.

Leaning into hard-hitting synth bass — street funk — the crew's musical taste has evolved, incorporating Italo disco, jazz, boogie, Nigerian funk and other styles of funk. The music is meant to wake you up, like a cachetada (slap in Spanish), or being "slapped" with the funk.

At their annual anti-Valentines party held on February 11, downtown Santa Ana is buzzing with activity. The air is thick and murky from the fog machines, and the multi-colored strobe lights flash between a haze of silhouettes. Friends and couples huddle closely — generations intermix — dancing in a two-step with their elbows lifted, guided by a blended groove.

In 2012, they started a record label to distribute their own funk tracks. They issued six singles and two volumes as an homage to the East Side Story compilations. The album sleeves capture the feel of the 35 mm film photos on the east side covers, but the Funk Freaks included California historical landmarks: the Watts Towers, the infamous Pioneer Chicken in East Los Angeles and the Orange County sign featuring the Funk Freaks Records store in the distance. Femme models stand defiantly next to late '70s and '80s lowriders — a Buick Regal and Cutlass Supreme — synonymous with the music instilled beneath the packaging. The imagery honors "el disco es cultura" — origins that point to funk roots. We like to "keep it old school," Debo says.

A Funk Freak Future

Debo's extensive personal record collection comprises two massive Ikea shelves encased with funk, hip hop, soul, breaks and jazz, and another for 45s. Debo jokingly says that when his children become teenagers, he will have a record boot camp. They will be assigned to alphabetize, grade and arrange them into a musical library.

"If kids are passionate about something," he shares, "you need to give them the resources."

Funk music chronicles the past and infuses innovative elements that keep it fresh and everlasting. The Funk Freaks are making sure it will unfold for decades to come, still breaking barriers for Chicanx youth and communities of color. Their lineage encompasses a bit of grit and soul and a whole lot of funk.

The co-founders proudly recall a night early on at Malone's where 400 people packed the space. Some youngsters weren't of age, jumping the fence to get a taste of funk escapism. Debo and Loser were on the turntables and Luer was collecting money at the door. There was no promotion — just word of mouth.

"That's when I had an epiphany. We have something here," says Debo. "I want to make sure that people know that Chicanos are impacting the world of record collecting. Our culture's rich here. We can influence people, and we have, and we will continue to do so."