Rec Hall is lucky to still have a roof this morning.

Although a huge crowd of satisfied students did "get funked up" and put its eager hands together in celebration last night, no one "toress da roof off the mothersucker" as also advised. At least, not technically.

George Clinton and the Parliament Funkadelic partied like it was 1979 last night at a University Concert Committee-sponsored free show. For many, the concert was an awesome scene that reached some explosively funky heights; but it was clear that the real party was onstage.

The show did not, however, start out with the immediate detonation of a "funk bomb." Rather, P-Funk's groove was based upon a gradual intensity that grew and grew with each song until Clinton's climactic entrance long after the funk started.

The fairly standard group of three or four musicians that took the stage just as the lights were dimming seemed somewhat tiny in comparison to the virtual wall of 11 or 12 huge stack amps surrounding the stage. And as the group slowly broke into an extremely laid back bass-driven riff, the crowd had to wonder exactly where the funk was going to come from. This had to be some sort of tasty appetizer.

And that's when Garry "Starchild" Shider walked onstage in a diaper.

Shider's soulful singing and guitar work added to the slow groove, but it was still apparent that this party was just getting started. Although the beat continued, it did not escalate; clearly this was a tease.

But it wasn't long before a man calling himself "Lollipop Man, AKA the Long-Haired Sucker" announced the true arrival of the P-Funk Mothership.

"They got a saying... '2000, party's over, oops, out of time," said the Sucker. "Well, tonight, we're gonna party like it's 1979!"

Within seconds, no less than 17 people somehow materialized onstage as if through some sort of supernatural, supermusical trick. The stage took on the appearance of a huge musical "house party" movie with a constantly shifting cast. But most importantly, the group finally established a fast, danceable beat that brought the rest of the crowd to its feet just as it was starting to doubt the funk.

"We are not of your world," said a mysterious voice in between songs. "We have come to free your mind."

P-Funk then led the crowd through at least an hour's worth of funk, which included ripping guitar solos and a tight, expressive horn section. At any given time, there was an uncountable number of people onstage rejoicing in the music and adding to the fun.

But still, there was no sign of George.

Finally, during the powerful climax of "Cosmic Slop," Clinton, the Mayor of Chocolate City himself, graced the stage with his presence, decked out in a neon hat and huge blue tapestry. He guided the audience through sets of hand motions and waves, and then took to the mic himself to express his vocals.

Clinton's arrival marked the high point of the show, but the band didn't let up. As the "maggot overlord" paraded around in his wild clothing, he took on the appearance of an all-seeing, all-knowing musical leader, nodding to his all-star band and feeling the funk.

With it's almost chaotic celebratory message, P-Funk brought a groovalicious party to Penn State last night, and its 61-year-old overlord couldn't have been happier.