Liquid Funk (1/4)
	Drum n'bass has got a new sound. After two years of darkness, the scene's leading producers have rediscovered the funk
	Drum n'bass is dead, of course. Its cold body is buried six feet under a pile of rehashed ideas and the egos of DJs, producers and promoters. This, at least, is the view of much of the industry: record sales are at an all-time low, record shops are being forced to close and club nights are shutting their doors. The sounds of rattling snares, rolling sub bass and moody sonics just aren't in vogue any more. But look closer at the drum n'bass scene as 1999 approaches. Far from being filled with programmers clinging on by their finger nails, these supposedly creatively void times are bearing witness to an underground which is more vibrant than it has been since late 1994. The reason is simple: after the darkness of the last two years, drum n'bass has rediscovered its roots in funk and has once again found the booty-calling urgency that typified jungle. Fabio calls the vibe liquid funk, Grooverider calls it afro-funk; either way, the 'f' word has been dominating dub plates over the last six months. Just check the afro-junglist vibes of Shy FX's floor-shaking 'Bambaataa' or the pure waist-down genius of Adam F's 'Brand New Funk', or go to London's premier drum n'bass nights Swerve and Movement, which are rammed with sweating bodies, once again feeling the pelvic thrust of breakbeat's true down-and-dirty nature. Try telling anyone at these clubs that drum n'bass is dead and they'll laugh in your face.
	Liquid Funk continues