Many artists expanded their minds with LSD experimentation during the 1960s. In the case of George Clinton and his Parliament and Funkadelic bandmates, the drug expanded more than that.
“The thing about acid is that it ruins your stomach — it’s acid, after all,” he tells The Post. “We were eating a lot of soul food at the time, too, so basically, we all spent hours in the bathroom and had more hemorrhoids than you could imagine.”
Clinton, 73, is not a man of secrets, which makes his memoir, “Brothas Be, Yo Like George, Ain’t That Funkin’ Kinda Hard on You?” (out Tuesday), all the more entertaining. The funk pioneer has led a life that will make you laugh, cry and wince.
As a teenager in New Jersey, he formed a doo-wop group called the Parliaments. After a spell working as a songwriter for Motown in Detroit, Clinton fashioned his own form of funk through (the slightly renamed) Parliament and their psychedelic-influenced sister band Funkadelic (known collectively as P-Funk).
Part of P-Funk’s appeal was the live show: a surreal blend of musicians in outlandish costumes (including diaper-wearing guitarist Garry Shider), weed smoking aplenty and even a spaceship.
Clinton also devised an otherworldly lyrical mythology, featuring aliens and alter egos, such as Dr. Funkenstein and Sir Nose D’VoidofFunk. He incorporated these freakish characters into his offstage image, too — which backfired when it came to the ladies. In the book, he recalls the time a groupie in the 1970s announced her intention to sleep with a member of Funkadelic — before pointing to Clinton and saying, “But not you!”
“I used to wear stars in my hair, a jockstrap [outside my pants], all kinds of weird stuff,” he remembers. “I actually got freaked out when girls wanted me, because I figured they were weirder than me!”
He recalls getting upstaged one night in Oklahoma by a woman who waltzed onstage and proceeded to puff on a joint and blow smoke rings — out her butt. “It was a circus back then, and the fans were sometimes the performers,” he laughs now.
Drug use was common for a touring funk band during the 1970s, but for Clinton, it was crack that took the biggest toll. He once spent a night in jail with Sly Stone after being busted for possession in a Denny’s parking lot.
Another time, a teenage Chelsea Clinton came backstage after a show and asked for a picture. Startled by the Secret Service, George was forced to conceal a red-hot crack pipe in one hand while shaking the first daughter’s hand with the other. The subsequent picture was printed in People magazine.
“You don’t give a f - - k when you’re on crack,” he says.
Now clean after 30 years of on-and-off drug use, one of the reasons that Clinton kicked the habit was to have more energy to fight in court for money he feels he’s owed for his music. Publishing rights to many of his songs — which have been sampled countless times by hip-hop artists — belong to a company called Bridgeport which, he claims, obtained the rights fraudulently.
“I was running around and getting high. I didn’t pay enough attention to business,” he admits.
Clinton is still recording: He has a new album (with the same title as his book) out Tuesday and recently collaborated with Kendrick Lamar. “He knows all about P-Funk’s history,” Clinton says. “I was impressed.”
He also has a whole new outlook on life: “One of the best things about getting off crack is not waking up in the morning and thinking about where you’re gonna get it.”