What the Hell Happened to James Brown?

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.

The Land Where It’s Never Christmas

The Guardian of London has a heart-warming seasonal story about a small town called North Pole in Alaska, where it’s Christmas 365 days a year and all the town’s residents (including the school children) answer “letters to Santa” that come in from around the world. Last spring, a group of about a dozen of North Pole’s sixth graders were caught “making a list and checking it twice.” Their Columbine-style massacre plot was narrowly thwarted. Perhaps the incessant holiday “cheer” drove them to it, writer Jon Ronson wonders?

I was thinking about North Pole while doing some grocery shopping this morning in Kew Gardens, the Land Where It’s Never Christmas. All the shops are open as normal. Perhaps they’ll close an hour early for the big day in deference to the rest of society. There are no Santas around, the streetlights are plain and unadorned and almost no houses are decorated. It’s bliss. This is a less-advertised perk of living in a majority Jewish neighborhood (and, being Queens, those who aren’t Jewish are Hindu, Sikh, Taoist, Buddhist and Stewardess). Sure, it’s hell to find parking on a Friday night, but you won’t be driven bonkers by the whole “X-Mas Atmos.”

Serving on my co-op’s board, it has come to my attention that my apartment has probably doubled in value in the last three years. If we promote this whole “No Christmas” thing the way that North Pole promotes its “Year-round Christmas” thing, we could probably redouble our home values with all the Scrooges beating a path to our doors. But if I ever do sell, someone please remind me of this post. Just start singing “Jingle Bells,” and my Pavlovian response will kick in: “Never leave Kew Gardens.”

Cults Bands of the “80’s-90’s”

The other day I was debating who might be the “most influential bands of the 90’s,” which is a more polite way of saying “whose fault are the 00’s (uh-oh’s),” which is awfully unfair to a host of excellent bands. It’s not their fault that popular music fractured into a multitude of sub-genres, or that mass media melted down into niches like blogs and podcasts. It’s certainly not their fault that rock and roll is a highly derivative art form, for they did not choose their followers.

Easily, one of the most influential bands of the 90’s was Pavement. Slackers, shoegazers, ironic smartasses – it’s almost as if they bothered to draw up the blueprints for modern indie sensibilities. But they were too busy getting stoned and covering “School House Rock” songs. A lot of misguided critics and fans expected Pavement to do something Important ten years ago. Following a series of overdubbed home recordings and lo-fi e.p.s in the early 90’s, then band released two excellent long players, which offered increasingly competent musicianship and mysterious, occasionally cheeky, lyrics that hinted at greater depth and empathy. Real voice of a generation shit.

But 1995’s “Wowee Zowee” was a rambling, shambolic mess. Anything resembling a message was lost in the cacophony of genre pastiches and rubbish lyrics. The critics howled in disgust, the casual listeners dropped away and Pavement settled into the comfortable niche of cult artists. Ten years on, “Wowee Zowee” sounds like the band’s greatest artistic statement – precisely by not saying much of anything. It’s just a lot of jamming on good grooves, and occasionally throwing out an interesting turn of phrase. Matador Records continues to reissue Pavement’s albums in deluxe editions that include b-sides, demos and outtakes. The “Sordid Sentinels” edition of “Wowee Zowee” finally places the excellent single “Painted Soldiers” (which was promoted with a funny video of Spiral Stairs firing the other members of the band) on a proper Pavement album. Other highlights include an Australian radio set puts Malkmus on lead vocals for a strangely Lou Reed-ish “My Best Friend’s Arm” in which one can finally make out the lyrics (“Mt. Holyoke is my favorite friend and a college?”) and an acoustic demo of “Fight This Generation” that sounds more sinister than sarcastic.

It should not have come as a surprise that Pavement would settle for cult status. A formative influence on Stephen Malkmus was the ultimate cult band, the Fall. A first wave punk band from Manchester, centered around the prickly personality of Mark E. Smith and his mostly paid associates, the Fall are the kind of cult that brainwashes. The typical Fall song drones on repetitively around a catchy groove while Smith growls and howls something incomprehensible and (if you’re lucky) Brix Smith coos a beautiful harmony. The new(ish) double-disc collection, “50,000 Fall Fans Can’t Can’t Be Wrong” provides the easiest indoctrination into the cult of Mark E. Smith.

Hershey’s Corporate Kiss-Off


This article was originally published in the January-February 2003 issue of “The Socialist.”

The recent announcement by the trust that operates the Hershey Industrial School that it was considering selling a large stake in the Hershey Foods Corporation set off waves of protest in the town of Hershey, PA, that eventually sunk the proposal. What kind of company town has effective veto power over its corporate benefactor’s business plans? Clearly, Hershey is a company town like know other.

To understand it better, one should place the town’s history in the context of the social reform movement of the turn of the century that formed alternative model communities founded with the aims of conquering the abject poverty and gross inequalities of the era’s great cities. The most identifiable are the socialist cooperatives like Robert Owen’s New Harmony, IN and Job Harriman’s New Llanos, CA, but socialists did not have a monopoly on alternative city building. The towns of Pullman, IL – best known now for the disastrous American Railway Union strike that turned Eugene Debs towards socialism – and Hershey, PA – best known now as the poor man’s Disneyworld – were themselves social experiments.

When the Pullman Sleeping Car Company needed to expand in 1880, initial plans had the company simply building its factory complex with the city of St. Louis. Paternalism and arrogance drove George Pullman to instead build a new city that he thought would be free of alcoholism, crime, poverty and labor strife. Ironically, it was his devotion to the city of his creation that brought on the strike of 1893. Had Pullman’s factory been located in St. Louis, he would no doubt have simply laid off thousands of employees during the national depression that was causing profits to plummet, but as it was the main employer and economic engine for a community he built and felt responsible for, the company instead embarked on a plan for work sharing. Wage rates were never cut, but weekly pay for employees was severely reduced because of reduced hours.

The conventional story of the strike is that Pullman reduced his employees’ pay without lowering rent on the company-owned homes where many employees lived. However, the vast majority of employees lived in two adjoining towns that had sprung up around Pullman, where they could own their own homes, as well as avoid the company’s overbearing meddling in their private lives and morality, and, anyway, the company never evicted a single employee during the resulting rent strike. The strike was more a result of pent-up frustration with the company’s dominant role in all aspects of life in Pullman.

The famous strike was eventually put down by the National Guard, and work resumed at Pullman’s factory, but the town was never the same. George Pullman died in 1897, resentful of his reputation as a tyrant and the reputation of his model town as an oppressive fiefdom. One year later, the Illinois Supreme Court ordered the company to sell all land not involved in the production at the factory, and the town shortly blended into the rest of Chicago, as an industrial slum.


The Sweetest Place on Earth

Amazingly, just a few years after Pullman died, another self-made businessman decided to build a model company town of his own. Friends warned Milton Hershey that the Pullman town had been a disaster and a black mark on the Pullman name, and that Pullman’s residents wouldn’t have elected George Pullman dogcatcher. “I know we’re taking chances,” replied Hershey, “but I won’t be a candidate for dog catcher: I don’t like dogs that much.”

When Milton Hershey decided to build his model town, the name “Hershey” was not yet synonymous with milk chocolate. Indeed, in 1900 the world did not yet know milk chocolate. Chocolate was a luxurious treat for the wealthy. Milton Hershey had made a fortune with a caramel business, which he sold for the unprecedented sum of one million dollars in 1900. Although he retained rights to a small chocolate subsidiary, it specialized in novelty chocolates and was something of a hobby for Hershey, who simply planned to spend his wealth and the rest of his life touring the world with his wife.

For some reason, Hershey abandoned the idea of conspicuous consumption and opulent travel and, like George Pullman, became interested in solving the problems of modern industrial life. Thus, Milton Hershey started the Hershey Chocolate Co. to support his town, not vice versa. Hershey worked on a formula for milk chocolate that could be mass-produced, to provide his town with sustainable industry.

Ground broke on the new town in 1903, near its own source of dairy farms in Pennsylvania Dutch land. The Philadelphia and Reading Railroad served Hershey, at the request of Milton Hershey. Hershey also built a trolley system.

At the center of town was a 150 acre park, featuring a band shell, golf course and a zoo. Hershey continued to add attractions, and by 1913, the park was receiving 100,000 visitors a year, giving Hershey a second industry: tourism. Hershey built banks, department stores and public schools. In addition, he built training schools like the Hershey Industrial School, a generous boarding school for orphans.

In fact, when Hershey’s wife died in 1915 he donated his entire estate – 30 years before his own death – to the Milton Hershey School Trust, which operated the Hershey Industrial School. This strange, quiet act of philanthropy had the peculiar effect of creating a corporate giant that is to this day owned by an orphanage. The result is that the town of Hershey and the Hershey Foods Corp. are more closely tied than one might believe possible in this era of free trade.

Hershey, PA is no stranger to labor strife, however. In a case of history repeating itself, Hershey was the target of a strike by a radical labor union – this time the CIO – during a depression – this time the Great Depression. Despite the fact that Hershey laid off no workers and made no wage cuts, Hershey, PA was caught up in the wave of sit down strikes and Communist agitation. In April of 1937, 600 workers took control of the factory for five days. The strike was broken not by the National Guard, but by angry farmers (who were losing 800,000 pounds of milk a day) and workers loyal to the company, who broke into the factory and beat-up and forcibly removed the strikers. Hershey eventually signed a contract with the more conservative AFL.

Despite this black mark, the town of Hershey, PA is a modest success. Though by no means the utopia Hershey envisioned, the town exists today as a successful tourist destination and the chocolate factory continues pumping out product, and providing the town with a base for industrial jobs.

It may be easy for a reader who is normally critical of the role of corporations in public life to romanticize the example of Hershey, PA. Certainly, the relationship between the Hershey Company and the town of Hershey is an admirable one when compared to Flint, MI and General Motors. Also, since the established rules of the new global economy eschew corporate-community ties, we can be pretty sure that experiments like these are a thing of the past.

In fact, it was the rule of law that nearly caused the Hershey School to sell the company this past summer. The rules of “fiduciary responsibility” that have bedeviled stockholders’ “corporate responsibility” efforts caused Pennsylvania Attorney General, Mike Fisher, to pressure the trust to diversify its holdings, the majority of which are Hershey stock. It was enough to have business observers, like the Wall Street Journal, salivating over the merger possibilities, as well as the influx of Hershey Trust cash in a soft market. It also came at a time that Hershey workers were fighting out the longest strike in company history, over proposed health plan cutbacks, proposed by the first non-Hershey resident CEO in the company’s history. Whatever respite Hershey workers and residents have won seems likely to be short-lived.