There are two ways to interview Here Come the Mummies.

One way involves challenging their subterfuge. The other involves embracing it.

I chose to embrace it.

Here Come the Mummies is a funk and R&B band whose members all dress up as linen-wrapped Egyptian corpses.

Rumor has it that these disguises were employed to protect the musicians, some of whom have found fame elsewhere and are under contract with entities that would not appreciate their participation in Here Come the Mummies.

Whatever the reason, the Mummies peddle a backstory that involves a 5,000-year curse put on them by Pharaoh for beguiling his daughters.

The curse seems to involve them having to wander the earth for eternity playing funk music. Seeing as this is something they love to do, it doesn’t sound like much of a curse.

Maybe I am confused about something.

Here Come the Mummies performs at the Clyde Theatre on November 30.

Asked if mummies are superior to living humans at the creation of funk music, Mummy Cass replied, “Maybe not superior, but we have our own special brand. For one thing, we have the actual decay going on that other funk groups only hint at. Like that faint whiff of rot at the heart of a perfectly ripe strawberry. That is funk.”

The Mummies say they didn’t invent funk, but they did pave the way for it.

“Funk takes a long time to show up,” Mummy Cass said. “But that is cool. All that stuff that precedes it is cool and necessary. If Stevie Wonder rolled up in Mozart’s day, peoples’ heads would’ve exploded. They practically exploded dealing with Mozart, dig?”

“All good things are worth the wait,” Midnight Mummy said. “5,000 years ain’t so long.”

The Mummies insist that their stench does not drive away female fans. In fact, they say the extensive wrapping allows such fans to imagine whatever handsome visages they prefer under the gauze.

All the gauze in the world can’t change one fact: Some people just don’t like funk, mummies, or any union of funk and mummies.

“Well, we win over skeptics all the time, but we don’t need everyone to love us,” Mummy Cass said. “It’s cool if you don’t.”

“It’s nicer if you do, but we love you either way,” Midnight Mummy said.

Luckily, this kind of person constitutes a freakish minority.

The Mummies aim to leave every attendee utterly transformed by their shows.

“Hopefully, their inhibitions have been demolished like an old seaside hotel,” Mummy Cass said.

“Or burned up like an insurance job on a musty casino,” Midnight Mummy said.

The Mummies have two pieces of advice for people wondering about the best way to prepare for one of their shows.

“Make sure you are well hydrated,” Mummy Cass said, “and tell the babysitter you’ll be back late.”

Asked what one of their shows will look and sound like in another 5,000 years, Mummy Case said, “Two words: thought downloads. Attend a show from a distant planet if you want.”

“It will all happen,” Midnight Mummy said. “You think it won’t. But it will.”

steve.penhollow@gmail.com