David McReynolds laments the now-obvious gap in his record collection, and asks where is a good place to start with James Brown. And, since he also laments the lack of consideration of arts and culture in our little corner of the the movement, and I need an excuse to get my nose out of health care policy textbooks, I’m wrtiting to recommend “JB40.”
Ordinarily, I agree with that old “Kids in the Hall” joke that “Greatest hits are for housewives and little girls,” but Brown’s career is so expansive and encompasses so many distinct periods that no regular album could serve as a proper introduction. In fact, I just had this conversation with Alan Amalgamated last Friday, and if I were superstitious I would think that I cursed James Brown to die two days later. I’m a “jinxy motherfucker,” Alan says.
To avoid the crap that passes for radio, Alan and I make mixtapes for each other on our carpools out to lawnguyland. My inclusion of “Say It Loud” (yes, I may be as pale as a corpse, but that song is awesome and I do sing along, “I’m Black and I’m proud.”) inspired Alan to posit that the two most influential drummers of the modern era were John Bonham and the guy that drummed for James Brown. He’s the drummer, so he’s qualified to speak about Bonham (I find Zeppelin too wonky and boring), but the sad truth is that the unnamed, unknown drummer for James Brown, whose work is sampled in so many hip hop songs, was at least two different guys. Brown rather famously fired his crack soul band in the late 1960’s for striking for better treatment from their bandleader.
The tight, tight, tight band of “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag,” “Night Train” and “I Got You (I Feel Good)” were conditioned by the stern Godfather of Soul’s fining them for any missed beat or bum note. When they demanded that this practice stop, they were summarily fired by JB. His cocky young bassist, Bootsie Collins, promised to put together a new band for his bandleader. The result was a looser, funkier sound. By simply changing bands, James Brown invented a new genre of music: funk. He is a towering influence over popular music, and (this is how I “cursed” him) I wondered on Friday, “What the hell happened to James Brown?”
This man invented new genres on the fly. He famously rented out the Apollo and other venues for weeks at a time, hired his own staff and promotors and sold his own tickets in order to prevent his art and business from being exploited. He appealed for calm after Martin Luther King’s assassination. He sang chillingly about the destruction that “King Heroin” wrought in the ghettoes. One day folks were “colored,” then he put out the record “Say It Loud” and suddenly folks were Black and Proud. How did he allow himself to become a walking punchline in his later years? The drug addiction. The mugshots, police chases and jail time. The spouse abuse. “Living in America.”
Perhaps now that he has mercifully passed on, younger generations can finally embrace what was cool, proud and noble about him, much as Johnny Cash and Ray Charles experienced career resurgence in death (but please spare us the Hollywood movie).
It turns out that “JB40” is out of print. I’m sure there will soon be dozens of collections, anthologies and rehashes put out to capitalize on Brown’s death. Some may be good, some will certainly be cheap and poorly chosen. Do yourself a favor and look in the used racks for a copy of “JB40” if you want a satisfying overview of James Brown’s entire, fascinating career.