You never would have guessed Sunday night that at the end of 2004 Galactic underwent a major lineup change that left the New Orleans-based band without a vocalist. In fact, the funk outfit delved headlong into its first set at Shank Hall with such blistering energy and authority it wasn't until the setbreak that you even remembered Theryl "Houseman" DeClouet wouldn't be coming out from the curtains to deliver his soulful vocals. It seemed like Galactic had always been an instrumental five piece.

According to keyboardist Rich Vogel, Houseman's departure came about mutually after the band decided its music was moving further and further away from the group's true identity as it turned more to pop-based tunes that allowed for the incorporation of Houseman's vocals.

"When we started out so many years ago our purpose was to play more authentic old school funk," Vogel said. "Over the years (the music's) gotten a little strange, more abstract, more strange noises. With Houseman it was becoming more of a dichotomy. We were starting to become a band with a split personality or something.

"Just playing the five of us, we don't have to worry about vocal music, the pop structure. It doesn't come natural to us. We're into making weird, groovy music."

He said Houseman's departure gave the rest of the band "new energy" to create such music.

Energy hardly describes the unbridled joy that poured from the stage and pulsed through the dancing crowd. Two hours saw tight, solid jamming as Galactic commanded the audience's attention, never slipping into abstraction or prolonging an uninteresting rhythm. It was definitely funky. It was definitely flavorful. And the meters could be heard more than once.

Ben Ellman bounced around, keeled over as he howled into his saxophone. Vogel repeatedly took his Hammond B3 to cascading crescendos. Jeff Raines stoically stood in the right-hand corner speaking catchy calypso-infused choruses and Southern-fried sounds through his guitar. And bassist Robert Mercurio provided the backbone as he pounded out thumping beats.

As for drummer Stanton Moore, well, it's quite possible that Moore possesses more pizzazz, more punch than the late Keith Moon — it'd be a trip to see the two of them battle it out in a competition. From start to finish Moore's enthusiasm never came close to waning as he smashed his drums left and right. When he couldn't contain his excitement any longer Moore leaped up from his stool, coming down on his "sparkling new red drum kit" (according to Ellman) harder than ever with sticks flailing, and at times played while simply standing up.

One song slid into the next and the improvisational nature of the music was marked by individual solos from each member, including some devilish-sounding harmonica from Ellman. Fans shook their fists in the air as the band built to a climax over and over again, relentless in its pursuit to defy all boundaries. It was uplifting and enlightening. It was dark and nasty. It was more excitement than Milwaukee's seen on a Sunday night in a long time.

Galactic will return to its hometown at the end of April to perform for its tenth year at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival before heading into the studio to record a new album. The band's last effort, 2003's Ruckus, found Galactic meddling electronically, altering beats and adding noises to their feel-good vibrations. While Vogel said the band continuously tries to experiment, he predicts the new album will feature "a little more of an organic approach in recording and not have as many thrown loops."

"I think we've sort of had a self-realization that our thing is playing together," Vogel said. "This time I would suspect there might be a little more live feel."

If it'll be anything like Sunday night, bring it on.

This article appeared in The Marquette Tribune on April 7 2005.