It was 1976 in Steubenville, Ohio. Robert Parissi was frustrated. His band, Wild Cherry, was playing hard rock in a world that suddenly only wanted to dance to disco. If you’ve ever looked up the lyrics to play that funky music, you’ve seen the story laid out in a series of self-deprecating verses. It isn't just a party anthem; it’s a literal documentary of a band having an identity crisis.
They were a rock band. A "white boy" rock band, to use the song's own terminology. During a set at a club called 2001, a black fan reportedly walked up to the stage and asked, "Are you white boys gonna play some funky music?"
Parissi grabbed a drink order pad. He scribbled down the lines that would eventually sell over two million copies and define the bridge between the dying age of arena rock and the neon-soaked peak of the disco era. It happened that fast.
The Misunderstood Lyrics to Play That Funky Music
People always mess up the chorus. You hear it at weddings all the time. Someone grabs the mic, screams "Play that funky music, white boy!" and then just mumbles through the rest because they don't actually know what comes next.
The song starts with a realization: "I was boogieing down, dancing, making it loud / And I was dancing and singing and moving to the groove." Parissi is setting the scene of a musician who thought he was doing just fine. Then the shift happens. The narrator notices the audience isn't feeling the rock vibe anymore.
One of the most specific, and often misheard, sections is the second verse. Parissi sings, "I must admit it was something new / But I couldn't believe it was happening to me." He’s talking about the ego bruise of having to change his entire musical philosophy just to keep the lights on. Most people think the song is just about having a good time. It’s actually about the death of a rock star's pride.
"I thought it was the end / But it was only the beginning." This line is arguably the most prophetic in the whole track. Wild Cherry went from a struggling local act to a Billboard chart-topper basically overnight. But there's a catch. When you examine the lyrics to play that funky music, you see the seeds of a one-hit wonder being planted in real-time. They leaned so hard into the gimmick that they could never go back to being a "serious" rock band.
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Racial Dynamics and the 1970s Club Scene
We have to talk about the "white boy" part. In 2026, some people look back at these lyrics with a bit of a squint, wondering if they’re offensive or just dated. Honestly? At the time, it was seen as a bridge-builder. The song was a massive hit on R&B stations before it even crossed over to the pop charts.
Black audiences loved it because the groove was authentic. The bass line—which many people mistakenly attribute to a synthesizer but was actually a very crisp Fender Jazz Bass—was undeniable. The lyrics were a self-aware nod to the fact that funk wasn't "supposed" to come from a group of guys from Ohio who looked like they should be opening for Foghat.
It’s a song about a white band learning to respect a Black genre. When Parissi sings, "They said play that funky music till you die," he isn't mocking the suggestion. He’s accepting it. He’s saying, "Okay, this is what the people want, and this is where the soul is right now."
Why the Groove Works (Technical Nuance)
The magic isn't just in the words. It’s in the space between them. If you look at the lyrics to play that funky music on a page, they seem repetitive. "Play that funky music... play that funky music." Over and over.
But listen to the "chick-a-boom" guitar scratches. That’s purely percussive. Parissi was using a Gibson 335 through a Fender Twin Reverb, trying to mimic the sound of Nile Rodgers or the Ohio Players. It’s a very dry, very tight sound. There’s almost no reverb on the vocals either. This makes the lyrics feel like they’re being whispered—or shouted—right in your ear in a crowded, sweaty basement club.
The structure is classic verse-chorus-verse, but the bridge is where things get weird. The instrumental break isn't a guitar solo in the traditional rock sense. It’s a rhythmic workout. It reinforces the lyrical theme: shut up and play.
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Common Misconceptions and Lyrical Errors
If you search for the lyrics online, you’ll find a dozen different versions of the line "I laid my rock and roll problems on the shelf."
- Some sites say: "I laid my rock and roll bottles on the shelf." (Wrong.)
- Others claim: "I laid my rock and roll goggles on the shelf." (Ridiculous.)
The "problems" line is essential. It’s the pivot point. It signifies the moment the band gave up on their original dreams to pursue the paycheck and the popularity of the funk scene. It’s a cynical move wrapped in a very happy-sounding song.
Then there’s the cowbell. Oh, the cowbell. While not a "lyric," the rhythmic hits during the chorus act as a punctuation mark for the words. If you’re singing this at karaoke and you don't mime the cowbell, are you even really singing it?
The Legacy of a One-Hit Wonder
Wild Cherry never caught lightning in a bottle twice. How could they? The lyrics to play that funky music were so specific to that exact moment in 1976—the transition from the gritty 70s into the polished disco era—that anything else they released felt like a parody of their own success.
Parissi eventually left the music business for a while, disillusioned by the "white boy" label that he himself had popularized. It’s a classic "be careful what you wish for" scenario. He wrote a song about a band losing their identity to a trend, and in doing so, he ensured his band would only ever be remembered for that one trend.
But man, what a way to go out.
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The song has been sampled by everyone from Vanilla Ice (who faced a massive lawsuit over it) to various hip-hop artists. Each time it’s reused, the lyrics take on a new life. In the 90s, it was a kitschy throwback. Today, it’s a masterclass in how to write a hook that sticks in the human brain for fifty years.
Real Insights for Musicians and Fans
If you're looking to perform this song or just want to appreciate it more, pay attention to the phrasing. Parissi doesn't sing on the beat; he sings slightly behind it. That's what makes it "funky."
- Study the staccato: The way the words "white boy" are clipped is intentional. It provides a rhythmic "snap" that mirrors the snare drum.
- Watch the bass: If you're a musician, the lyrics are secondary to the pocket. If the bass player isn't locked in with the kick drum, the lyrics will sound corny rather than cool.
- Respect the source: Understand that this was a rock band attempting to honor R&B. Play it with that same level of earnestness.
The lyrics to play that funky music represent a time when genres were colliding and crashing into each other. It’s messy, it’s a little bit awkward, and it’s incredibly catchy.
To truly get the song right, stop focusing on the "white boy" part as a punchline. Start looking at it as a moment of musical surrender. The narrator realizes he’s been beat by the rhythm. He stops fighting the disco wave and starts riding it. That’s the "funky music" he’s talking about—the kind that makes you forget who you thought you were and just makes you move.
If you’re planning to add this to a playlist or perform it, remember the bridge’s energy. The build-up is where the tension lies. Don't rush the "Wait a minute!" section. Let it breathe. That’s where the soul is.
Actionable Next Steps
- Listen to the 1976 original alongside the 1990 Vanilla Ice cover. Notice how the removal of the live bass in the cover changes the impact of the lyrics completely.
- Check out Robert Parissi’s later interviews. He has spent decades talking about the "accidental" nature of this hit, and his perspective on the Ohio music scene provides a lot of context for the "rock and roll problems" he mentions.
- Isolate the drum track if you can find it. The interplay between the hi-hat and the lyrics is a perfect example of mid-70s production techniques that focused on "dry" sounds to maximize danceability in clubs.