Chicapah As far back as I can remember I’ve always been fascinated by music and the devices that deliver it to my ears. Since my only sibling, my sister, was four and a half years my senior the artists I heard most were the ones that she had in her collection of 45s. In the late 50s and early 60s she, like most of her peers, got her cues about what was hot & happening from Dick Clark’s “American Bandstand” and local Top 40 AM radio. Therefore Elvis, Fabian, Paul Anka, Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, Neil Sedaka, Little Richard and others of that ilk were on the singles I’d swipe from her room and play on my dinky record player in the sanctuary that was my bedroom. But there was one guy that I’d hear all the time on the radio that didn’t sound like anyone else. The weird thing was that nobody I knew (certainly not sis) had any of his stuff. I hate to say this but in the white community where I grew up James Brown scared the dickens out of the grownups. Of course, later on that only made his music more appealing to me and to the rock & roll rebels I hung out with in my teens. There was something earthy, primeval and, yes, sexy about his songs and stupefying presentation that drew us in like bees to honeysuckle blooms. We had no idea what to call what he did but we knew that we liked it. A lot. By the mid 60s every garage band in the U.S. of A had a few tunes on their list by the Godfather of Soul and often he was the only black artist they covered. James Brown was so unique, so enigmatic and such a nonconformist that he met all our stiff requirements for being idol-worthy, inspiring all of us to try to figure out how to play FUNKY. We knew that if we could somehow master his style we would be on our way to becoming well-rounded musicians. His music was a sort of litmus test of skill.

You’d have to dedicate an entire shelf of your collection to hold all the material that “the hardest working man in show business” recorded in his long career. He released over 80 studio and in-concert albums alone! That’s why this compilation is such a great CD to have. The generous number of tunes it contains allows it to provide a broad yet balanced view of what James was all about and how true to his calling he remained during his half-century long stint in the music biz. His backing orchestras may have changed their lineups as often as modern pro sports teams do but their consistency never wavered. Like a great but demanding coach, he always brought out the best in his players no matter what and they always sounded like a James Brown ensemble regardless of who was on the roster. He didn’t follow trends, he started them. And, as far as being jazz-related, I challenge anyone to name another chart-topping artist who utilized a full horn section as continuously as he did. Trumpets, trombones and saxophones were an essential part of the vast majority of his product until the day he died and that traditional jazz influence echoes through his sound over and over. And that voice of his? Fuggitaboudit. He’s the king of scream. The wizard of wails. The sultan of sweat.

With twenty cuts to skim across I’ll attempt to be brief with my comments:

“I Got You (I Feel Good)” – His highest charting hit at #3 in ’65. No other song personifies how he mixed together a big band attitude with his funkified intentions more thoroughly. A bonafide earth-shaker that woke us all up. “Get Up (I Feel Like Being a Sex Machine, Pt. 1)” – Starting the 70s with his new crew, the “J.B.’s” featuring “Bootsy” Collins on bass, James felt revitalized. Funk at its finest with Brown himself tossing in some short piano spasms. “I Got the Feelin’” – #6 smash in ’68. Clyde Stubblefield’s drums and Bernard Odum on bass are an unbeatable duo and James’ repeated “baby, baby, baby” refrain is priceless. “Mother Popcorn, Pt. 1” – More complex rhythms are in evidence and its crisp horn patterns would influence the Average White Band a few years later. “Give it Up or Turnit A Loose” – The sneaky horn intrusions are the nazz.

“Make it Funky, Pt. 1” – Brown’s organ playing adds spice and the title tells you all you need to know about its intent. “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag, Pt. 1” - #8 zinger in ’65. Jimmy Nolen’s guitarisms give the track an irresistible edge and Odum’s dense-as-fog bass tone is unbelievable. This one got into everybody’s brain from the get go. “Think” – From ’60, the embryonic funk monster emerges from the R&B swamp and heads inland. “It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World” – #8 on the pop charts. Sammy Lowe arranged and conducted the lush score. James’ finest ballad and he sings it like his throat is possessed. “Try Me” – His first to crack the Billboard Hot 100 in ’58 while fronting The Fabulous Flames, this is more doo-wop than soul music but it’s still a fine piece of nostalgia.

“Night Train” – A great instrumental that seemed like it was on every jukebox in America in the early 60s. It has a cool looseness that can’t be duplicated. “Cold Sweat, Pt. 1” – Climbed to #7 in ’67. Recorded live in the studio in one take. Odum and Stubblefield lay down some of the tightest funk ever and it’s got brassy dynamics out the wazoo. Lots of us Caucasian boys covered this one. Or tried to. “Get on the Good Foot” – A steady, solid groove rolls under Brown’s inimitable singing. The horn arrangement is particularly clever. “Papa Don’t Take No Mess, Pt. 1” – The kind of slow, infectious funk that James excelled at extracting from his backing orchestra. “The Payback” – Unusually spare in that guitar, bass and drums dominate. Rare occurrence of a wah-wah guitar in the mix.

“Say It Loud (I’m Black and I’m Proud), Pt. 1” – Anthem-ish #10 hit. Trivial fact: children’s chorus is made up mostly of white and Asian kids, very few blacks. Punchy brass is beefed up by Stubblefield’s tasty but powerful bass drum work. “Super Bad, Pts. 1&2” – “Catfish” Collins’ understated guitar lines distinguish this track and “Jabo” Starks’ drumming is remarkable. Robert McCollough’s tenor sax solo is delightfully wild and wooly. “Hot Pants, Pt. 1” – Pure, unadulterated funk with all of Brown’s signature ingredients present and accounted for. This is how it’s done. “Get Up Offa That Thing” – Disco colorings undeniable but it still doesn’t make you think of anyone else. “Please, Please, Please” – James’ first professional recording and his first hit (#6 on the R&B singles chart in ‘56). A staple of his live act, specifically during the famous cape routine. The unchecked passion in his voice still penetrates.

Four stars for a “Best of” package? You betcha. Rolling Stone Magazine listed it as one of the 500 greatest albums of all time and that should tell you something about how representative it is. If you don’t have any James Brown in your stash then this is an exemplary introduction to his genius. The man had 99 singles that made it onto the Billboard Hot 100 in his lifetime, second only to Elvis Presley. He was a giant. Yet, as influential and iconic as he may have been, I still think he was and continues to be vastly underrated. There was R&B and there was soul music and then there was James Brown. He was one of a kind and he and his music stand alone, far apart from the hordes of pretenders.