George Clinton has an infectious giggly ear-to-ear grin. Perhaps a permanent souvenir from years of toking. The night of April 9, 2002 at the World in New York City, after a longwinded 30-minute intro from his band, the braided, bearded, psychedelic maestro of funk entered the room on a mission: "To free your mind ... and your ass will follow."

With five guitarists, a horn section, backup singers and a shaggy panting pooch that rolled on command to the band's pulsating rhythms, P-Funk were quite a sight to behold. On the tune "Cosmic Slop," the 20-piece outfit meandered and grooved, cooking up a stew of urban clatter. All while conductor Clinton steered the mothership through storms of funk, jazz, soul and rock. Deliciously hot and molten.

Halfway into the set, someone in the crowd handed Clinton a joint. He took a few mighty hits and rapped in a solemn gruff through the prophetic "Dope Dog," a satirical jibe at the CIA and the national drug policy.

George Clinton at the World, NYC, 4/9/02 Photo by Winston Smith, © 2002 NY Rock

For the closers, P-Funk pumped up the volume with the party anthem "One Nation Under a Groove" and "Atomic Dog." The floor at the WWF Times Square venue shook like the Rock himself were throwing body slams. The plug was pulled on the band during "Atomic Dog," and the crowd was left singing in glorious unplugged harmony, "Ain't no party like a P-Funk party."

And the stage was set for round two.

Rumors spread about the room that Prince would be performing after Clinton's set. Sure enough, at two in the morning, the Artist Formerly Known as Prince strutted onto a barely lit stage, cocky, assured and at ease with a crowd already warmed by the full-blown onslaught of Clinton's P-Funk All Stars.

Punch drunk by the funk, the crowd took on round two like happy masochists. With a little help from his friends Alicia Keys, Doug E. Fresh, Musiq Soulchild, Maceo Parker, George Clinton and Larry Graham, Prince let the music do the partying as he took the lucky crowd on a ride that morphed three decades of funk and soul.

Prince at the World, NYC, 4/9/02 Photo by Winston Smith, © 2002 NY Rock

Nevermind that he looked like a primped-up poster boy with his cap, tailored suit and neatly trimmed sideburns, the pint-sized performer knows how to rock. On "Joy of Repetition," the four-piece band produced brooding, bluesy vamps that built slowly into an orgasmic finale of fuzzed-up wails. The distortion and metallic thunder flew through Prince's fingertips as if he were channeling the ghost of Hendrix himself.

The rest of the two-hour performance consisted of extended jams with a full-blown horn section that centered around Prince's stellar guitar work, Larry Graham's nasty-ass bass playing, and duets with the aforementioned guests. On "We Do This/ This Is What We Do," George Clinton sneered with glee as Maceo Parker and Prince riffed off each other like two gunslingers in a musical showdown. Doug E. Fresh beat-boxed through the old-school rap of "La-Di-Da-Di." And Alicia Keys took to the keys with Prince on piano in "How Come U Don't Call Me Anymore?" She proceeded to bolt around the stage, giving us a dazzling display of her vocal might in a pair of tight jeans that showcased her well-rounded non-musical talents.

At four in the morning, the crowd stumbled out from this one-night stand supremely satisfied.