The captain of the P-Funk Mothership on taking acid, what he thinks of Miley Cyrus and recording a new album live in London

George Clinton: 'I was born in a lavatory, so I have a legitimate claim on the funk'

Hello George. First things first: what are you wearing?

I got my suit on, baby. I like to change things up every now and then. So I'm well dressed today. Formally attired and real snappy!

I see you're recording a live-to-vinyl album in London next weekend …

So they tell me. Haven't done something like that in a long time. Hope there aren't too many mistakes – you can't go back and fix them: just like life. But come on down and bring two booties, because one booty ain't gonna be enough.

Do you have fond memories of London? Did you hang around Portobello Road in the hippie days?

Probably. And I liked that place where they have the trains turn around. The Roundhouse! I had lots of fun around London. Well, it was good fun then, but now it would be considered kind of bad. "Inappropriate" or some shit.

Were you really born in an outdoor lavatory?

Sure. My mother just thought she was going to the bathroom. So I do have a legitimate claim on the funk.

When you ran your barber shop in New Jersey in the 50s, would people come in and tell you their problems?

Yes, they did. It was a real education. People need a place to talk. You get a lot of real shit talked in a barber's. It was the chatroom of its day.

Your first group, the Parliaments, were described as sounding like "a drunk Temptations". Was that unfair?

Yes. We were more like the Temptations on acid.

Well, the Free Your Mind … album was made on acid. In one day! Was that in any way problematic?

Everyone was on acid – the audience, everyone – so it didn't matter. Acid ain't the same as before anyway. It's full of poison now that money and corporations are involved. I never had a bad trip on the acid in the 60s, only when they started putting angel dust and shit in it. Even street drugs are done by pharmaceutical companies now. I wouldn't trust no drugs these days.

Did you enjoy working with Primal Scream (1) in 1994?

With Bobby [Gillespie]? That was like starting all over again. It was naughty but nice. We didn't go too far with the partying so it was fun. Later, when crack came out, it just went completely nuts. You get what you wish for. You want to get fucked up, that's what you get. Fucked up.

How did it feel the first time you smoked crack?

Oh my God, like bustin' a nut. It never happened again, I'll tell you that. After the first one, you're always reaching for that again and it never happens. I thought I had found acid again and it took me 30 years to realise that it ain't acid. Ain't even cocaine. They'll still bust for coke, though. Even though there ain't no coke in it.

Twenty years ago Prince told me that "George is the funk". That must have been flattering.

Well, I try to be as funky as I need to get.

The album you did for the Paisley Park label, Hey Man, Smell My Finger, was a superb piece of work.

I love that record too! But you can make the best record in the world and if you're not all on the same page nobody will get to hear it.

Last summer, you recorded a song with Sly Stone (2) – how was he?

Sly was Sly. He was great. I did that with a friend of mine, Rob from London. He was with a band called Right Said Fred. Guitar player …

Let's get this straight: George Clinton, Sly Stone and Rob from Right Said Fred. That's quite a supergroup.

Ain't that something, huh?

Standing on stage throughout the 70s in an oversized nappy, did it ever strike you as a strange way to make a living?

No, I was over that the moment I did it. I did the diaper first in 1968. I knew that costuming and theatrics was so much a part of it. And we just tried to be funny. Craziness was a prerequisite. If you become crazy and don't know it then you got a problem.

And the actual Mothership now resides at the Smithsonian (3) …

The whole history of music has turned out to be something perfect. It's all come around. The music we did with Funkadelic and Parliament was the DNA for hip-hop. It's the root of a lot of the music you hear now.

On your collaboration with Tupac Shakur, Can't C Me, you sang the line "Right before your eyes, I'll disappear from here" and within six months Tupac was dead. That was pretty prophetic.

I know. Right before your eyes. And he disappeared. Music can be very mysterious that way.

Who are the funkiest white musicians you've heard?

The Average White Band. They were Scottish! They were one of the funkiest bands you're going to get because they were so on James Brown's ass you wouldn't believe it. And Eminem is one funky white motherfucker. I remember Eminem hanging around the studio when he was 14 years old. He was the baddest little dude and he still is today. He's unstoppable and true to the shit. He'll bust your head open with his rhymes.

As a 72-year-old enfant terrible, what's your position on Miley Cyrus?

She's got the funk. I love her! Her mind got free and her ass got twerkin'. She was workin' on the twerkin'. And I'm really glad she's workin' it up and pissing those grandparent-minded motherfuckers off. I'm actually very good friends with her uncle Kebo Cyrus (4). We've gotten up to some crazy things – it must run in the family. But Funkadelic have been inviting people up on stage to twerk and tweak and tweet for the last 20 years. Ain't nothing new.

Foot notes

(1) The high point being Funky Jam on the Glasgwegian groovster's Give Out But Don't Give Up.

(2) The Naz, Jesus Christ's life story told Sly-style. A five-minute masterpiece of biblical profundity.

(3) The National Museum of African American History and Culture bought the iconic intergalactic stage prop in 2011.

(4) Party-lovin', Kentucky-based country-funkateer. Looks a bit handy.

George Clinton hosts a Guardian Masterclass – featuring a live performance and recording by Parliament-Funkadelic – at the Power House, London, 31 January to 2 February. Details: theguardian.com/guardian-masterclasses