Mining the depths of funk usually ends up landing the voyager at some unknown destination where all musics come together in a sort of commercial orgy and a pinnacle of cheese. Not always, but if you dig deep, there might be a reason as to why some of the stuff is down there. As diggers reach further – and prices get to be startlingly big – it seems that the majority of discs possess only momentary glimpses into funk greatness. Not that the Meters or whoever else didn’t have a few throwaway tracks tossed in there, but the consistency of that group – early on at least – is a paradigm unmatched by most that come after.

All of this points to the fact that as the ‘70s moved towards a natural and coked up end, disco and trappings of what would become ‘80s music crept into the funk genre. Occasionally the additional sounds worked out – Stevie Wonder was pretty adept at incorporating new ideas into his compositions. However, there aren’t too many folks who can approximate his greatness. So unfortunately, listeners, fans and diggers are left with albums possessing a few insanely strong offerings and then a clutch of middling garbage. That’s diggin’ though.

Black Ice might be as guilty as anyone – Mandrill? – of tossing in a few too many popular musics onto their funk. It’s still gritty, at times, but sounds like some late ‘70s fair. And perhaps for that very reason, I’ve been incapable of even locating the names of the players on the 1979 I Judge the Funk. With a title like that, one might say, how could it be bad?

But despite the name of the group and its second full length – the follow up to the self titled ’76 album – there’s some sappy soul via “Postcard Love Affair” and album closer “Always on My Mind.” Considering that the disc is kicked off with “Fantasy,” though, it would make sense that there’d be more than just a dash of nonsense. The slow, syrup dripping off of every false setto note and that loungey keyboard assures some of fantasizing, but mostly just skipping the track. It was probably a good tune to chase some tail around to about thirty years ago – and your smooth uncle might still use it in the same way – but the music really just doesn’t translate to the now.

Even all of those clunkers and the overt disco of “Play More Latin Music” shouldn’t take away the authentic, greasy grit of the title track. “I Judge the Funk,” while also a hefty statement should have been a hit for Black Ice. Everything from the weird spoken intro ala George Clinton to twinkle of those keys and the sung “Guilty, Guilty” chorus points to success. It would appear, though, that even such a strong performance as represented by this one track was undercut by the dicey offerings that surrounded it. Luckily, mp3s allow for skipping tracks more easily than moving the arm of a record player. So cop part of this and enjoy.