If going music hunting with my Daddy was a special treat, Sunrise Records was the double-scoop ice cream sundae with chocolate and cherries on top.

I was still too short to see over what felt like a never-ending maze of records, but he always knew exactly where to find what he wanted. The term “head shop” had yet to become part of my vocabulary, so to me, the tattered, handwritten note on the door reading “minors must be accompanied by someone 18+” meant I was among the elite few allowed behind the curtain. Which was literally a 70s style beaded door curtain, but that only made it all the more magical.

After one of those storied Sunrise jaunts, he hurried back to his truck with an excited, mischievous smile. I couldn’t wait to find out what was in the bag, and he was happy to oblige. He told me to open it, and I ripped through the plastic like it was Halloween candy. I popped the CD in, but he skipped ahead to Track 4 and just grinned.

What played next was the wildest 9 1/2 minutes of music I’d heard in my entire short life.

I knew Parliament, Parliament-Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Brides of Funk and every spinoff in between. Behind EWF, P-Funk was easily his second most frequently played group. But this? To my tiny ears trained on church music, funk superstars, and soul singers “Aqua Boogie” might as well have been literal noise.

He’d set me up just to watch my reaction to one of their most outlandish songs, a test of how far my loyalty would go in service to The Hunt™.

We finished the song, then the album, and just before he took the exit to our house, I skipped back to Track 4. He laughed, turned it up, and found 10 more minutes of road instead.

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