RIP James Brown… or not. Sure, every journalist is going to blow smoke up your deceased ass, but not this cat. Maybe because I’m not a journalist or some know-nothing-hipster trying to prove he’s got some roots. No way, you and me, we have a score to settle.
See, despite the fact that JB was a pistol toting, tax evading, convicted wife beating dust-head, I still gave the man some cred and as a result, some of my hard earned cabbage. I mean, fuck, without James Brown, where would music be today? And man, sometimes, there are those people who you feel privileged that they let you share the air that they breathe. You were that guy, Jimmy. A living legend. So, when the opportunity presented itself to see you perform, I didn’t hesitate. I was happy to pay $45 for a nosebleed seat.
Then the day of the show I made the regrettable decision to buy a James Brown shirt before he took stage. I was not only going to have proof that “I was there”, but that I was also a sex machine (according to the shirt). The shirt and my skin have never met.
Cabaret Diosa opened the show and they were great. They left stage, there was a break, and then the orchestra came out. Now, I’d seen Ray Charles a few years before and his orchestra did a 5 to 10 minute intro and it was amazing. There’s nothing like a full orchestra intro to imply “This is just the tip of the iceberg. You’re going to blown away in a few short moments.” James Brown’s orchestra provided the same sort of anticipation. Like they were shaking a soda and you just knew that when Brown took the stage it would be like pulling the tab on that soda, with excitement just exploding everywhere. Then the intro started running a little long - but fuck it, the end result was James Brown walking onto stage and spinning like a top, so we waited… and waited… and waited… soon it felt like ol’ JB may be standing us up. But we waited… and waited… and waited. My arm was getting sore from my checking my watch so often.
Finally, James Brown took the stage and rather than feeling like “Fuck, yeah!” I was feeling more like shouting “Finally!” What transpired from that point on was easily the worst show I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen a lot of shitty shows in my life. He sang a few covers and then had some guest from some part of his life come out and sing a few songs, then he had his wife come out and sing a couple of songs, then when “The Godfather” returned to the stage, he covered Otis Redding. I checked with the other people in my party to see if I was completely off base, but we all agreed, this was blowing like an Angel Dust sniffing back up singer. The only person who appeared to be enjoying herself was the drunk as fuck fat ass in front of us who was speaking (not yelling) “I luff you, Jaymes Brownnn.” There were a lot of other people around us who’d given up on the idea of dancing and were now sitting in their seats.
The show greatly improved when a white guy jumped on stage and started dancing like James Brown, next to James Brown. JB waved the security off and let the kid go for a few steps. It was obvious that after a minute Brown was trying to coax this guy off of the stage, but the audience was finally cheering and enjoying themselves. He was upstaging the man at his own game. A look that was trying to be disguised as curiosity and maybe a little bit of impress, was clearly, even from the nosebleeds where I was sitting, a look of contempt. Shortly after JB sang another cover or brought his wife out to sing again, we left. We’d heard 2 James Brown songs sung by James Brown at a James Brown concert in a 1/2 hour of him being on stage. This, from the self proclaimed “hardest working man in show business.” A few nights later in LA he was booed off stage before he even got to his first song.
So, where do we put the cut-off for James Brown? At what point do we pretend “Oh, that just didn’t happen?” Do we look at a laundry list of his misdeeds and compare them on a timeline against his recordings and try to figure out where to decide that the James Brown we love and respect actually died and the PCP addict who puts on shit performances was born? Do we decide that we wouldn’t mind our mother marrying him even though he was a philanderer who liked his women bruised, because, well, it’s James Brown?! and 40 years ago he changed the face of music? So did Phil Spector, but are we going to let him off so easy? Hell, Hockey games wouldn’t be the same without Gary Glitter, but should we praise him upon his death and forgive his child molesting because he brought something to the party in the past?
The fact is, outside of those who knew and loved him, to the rest of the world, he just wasn’t a very good person. Would you want the guy next door to you to be a drug-addicted, wife beater who really digs his guns? That James Brown that everyone is remembering with such affection, he dropped dead a few decades ago and the only resemblance to him and they guy who died on Christmas was that they could move their feet with the same style. The hardest working man in show business, Mr. Please please himself, got lazy and bitter and let his demons get the better of him.
Now that he’s gone, is it appropriate to not hold his legacy accountable for the man he was? I guess I was even willing to let his indiscretions go because he was James Brown, had he not served up such a half assed display of showmanship. That was the day I realized that the person I looked forward to seeing, who changed the face of music and truly contributed something to the world, had died long before. This guy was just a bat-shit crazy old man with a drug and anger problem.
5 Comments »
Yeah, I know. But one line wasn’t enough.
I was talking to Bryan. Dude totally dissed my shit.
Yeah, old guy dies and the music lives on . . .
What else is new? Are we talking about James Brown or Gerald R. Ford, because anyone under 50 years old could care less?
An aging down home southern fried performer is called a music legend - and aside from trouble with the law, JB seems boring!
Only those who care to go back to the late 1950’s and remember what southern American music was like, and listen to the Brown legacy, may appreciate what Brown has wrought upon pop music. Otherwise the flash of the aged star struggling on stage looks pathetic. For a solopsistic egoist like Brown, it is especially so. Anyone care to listen to his lyrics? Not so much Black Power as James Brown Power was the never-ending musical theme!!
Years ago during the early ’80s, when the musical legacy of James Brown was little heard, Polydor records released a two-disc import set of JB’s 1956-1962 music called Roots of a Revolution (expanded edition available on CD). Robert Christgau of the Village Voice called Brown’s music revelatory and quite as influential as the Beatles or Rolling Stones. Such a statement was a surprise. What did JB have to do with the Beatles? The Beatles were drugged out hippies who changed pop music, the Rolling Stones were Bohemian counterculture rock gods, and JB was a marginal performer on the Chitlin Circuit who met with Richard Nixon (”Funky President - People it’s Bad”).
Now that creaky counterculture attitudes are fully divorced from rock and pop and R&B music, and the old music is fully ‘depoliticized,’ we can listen to JB’s music with hindsight. JB’s 1956 music begins at the R&B, jump blues stage - JB sometimes sounds like Little Richard (I feel that old feeling coming on), sometimes like the Dominoes (That Dood it). Come up to 1958-1959, he gets rid of the piano (or substitutes his own loud organ) and goes basic - the guitar becomes more prominent and performs the lead riff, and the horns punctuate the chord changes while his Famous Flames sound more and more like a Baptist church choir. This music gets down and dirty and JB shouts from the pulpit. Minus the Famous Flames, the band does some wicked instrumentals (Do the Mashed Potato). With the Famous Flames, JB sounds like souped-up doo-wop (Bewildered), louder and noisier and with guitar riffs (the 1959-1961 Miracles had a similar style).
JB experiments with arrangements and realizes how the riffing, the shouting to the choir, etc. cancels out the need for the typical R&B Lieber-Stoller/ Doc Pomus song. Or, the Ray Charles style blues progression may have too many progressions for JB’s purpose. Reduce the progression to 2-3 R&B changes and you have a riffing powerhouse you can take on the road. Like a train, the band keeps going and going and going and whips the crowd into a frenzy - check out Live at the Apollo 1962!!! JB still can write a nice song (Lost Someone) but he slows the pace down for it and sings it hot and heavy, depending upon the guitarist to play the chords. Basic and elegant and quite new for 1959-1960!!
JB’s horn arrangements turn complex by 1963-64. Out Of Sight uses mixes hard bop and big band horn arrangements with a killer groove. I’ve Got Money could come from the Buddy Rich Big Band - a big sound and the drummer goes nuts! By 1966-67 JB is at an impasse - hard rock riffing (Money Won’t Change You, There was a Time) or quirky dance beats (I got the feeling). Anyway, listening to JB’s experiments points the way to 70’s funk - beats, minimalist arrangements and soul shouting.
The Beatles from 1964 - 1966 were notorious for breaking a pop song into its basic elements and putting it back together with minimal arrangements (Drive my Car, Taxman). True, once they honed their songwriting skills, their arrangements became far more elaborate. But compare Come Together with Cold Sweat and the similarities are apparent - giant riffs, minimalist lyrics, R&B chord progression. I think the key terms are two: “experimental” and “minimalist.”
There is no denying JB’s influence - but what people hear are tired retreads (Living in America).
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Comment by Bryan — December 26, 2006 @ 1:48 pm
Still the best interview in history:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=lnyPlxGdCFc