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Oct 15, 2023

Listening to James Brown with Christian McBride

As a new Qobuz ambassador, it’s a pleasure to put together this custom James

As a new Qobuz ambassador, it's a pleasure to put together this custom James Brown playlist.

It would be much too easy to stack a James Brown playlist with songs that became sampled in hip-hop classics. I feel it's my duty as not only a Qobuz ambassador, but as an ambassador of the musical legacy of Mr. Brown, to dig deeper than you would usually see or hear on most DSPs.

For starters, James Brown actually made some pretty incredible music long before "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag" and after "Funky President." In between those two songs, from 1965 and 1975, respectively, lies the foundation of hip-hop and just about every form of contemporary American dance music. But also in between those two songs (and beyond), lies a plethora of noteworthy "deep cuts" that every jazz musician, musicologist, and James Brown fan should enjoy. I picked a few of those deep cuts.

Let's get started, shall we?

"Please, Please, Please" (recorded 1955)

I feel obligated to include this. While this is hardly a deep cut, it is, literally, the beginning of James Brown's legacy. The first song he ever recorded.

"Mashed Potatoes USA" (recorded 1961)

Lyrically, this song is quite similar to his version of "Night Train," recorded the same year. Brown, basically freestyling about his touring schedule (just like in "Night Train"), gives us a vocal harbinger of the new music he would come to create a few years later into the decade.

"I’ve Got Money" (recorded 1961)

Talk about a harbinger of things to come! Clyde Stubblefield and John "Jabo" Starks have become the most famous, most universally acknowledged drummers of James Brown's musical legacy. Easy to understand, as they played on the bulk of Brown's biggest hits. However, they both followed in the footsteps of one Clayton Fillyau. As a jazz historian, let me put it this way, if Clyde and Jabo are Max Roach and Roy Haynes, then Fillyau is Kenny Clarke. The beat that Fillyau plays on this song is a waterspan. If you put this song into a DAW and slow it down, you will hear the seed of "Get On The Good Foot," "Make It Funky," "There Was a Time" and more. After Fillyau's departure from Brown's band in 1964, one of Brown's favorite threats to his succeeding drummers was, "I’ll bring Fillyau back here and straighten all of you out!" Washington, DC's Clayton Fillyau, an unsung hero.

"Oh Baby, Don't You Weep" (recorded 1964)

When I first heard this song as a kid, my first thought was, "James is SANGIN’ on this!" I’ve always loved when Brown gets into his 6/8 gospel bag. Brown could have easily been a pentecostal minister. His vocals are "sho’ nuff bad" on this one. Contrary to the original album's title, this track was not recorded live. It was recorded in the studio with overdubbed applause and audience noise added later then slapped on as a last-minute addition to the live 1964 Pure Dynamite! album.

"Sidewinder" (recorded 1965)

Didn't know James Brown was a hard-core jazzhead, did you? Brown always understood that having musicians skilled at jazz would make his band not an ordinary R&B band. During his concerts throughout the ‘60s, Brown always featured jazz hits of the day in his opening organ set, like Horace Silver's "Song For My Father" and Lee Morgan's soul jazz hit, "The Sidewinder." Brown always did want to be Jimmy Smith.😂

"The Thing in ‘G’" (recorded 1962)

More straight-ahead jazz from the King of Soul. For a so-called R&B band, they are swinging hard on this! Featuring Lewis Hamlin on trumpet, Al " Brisco" Clark on tenor sax, Brown on organ, Les Buie on guitar, Bernard Odum on bass, and Jimmy Robinson on drums. This track was Prestige-worthy! (Prestige was a popular jazz label that leaned heavily on soul-jazz in the ‘60s.)

"Fat Bag" (recorded 1966)

The soulful caterpillar is starting to turn into a funky butterfly. The music is getting overtly funkier. By 1966, JB had already drawn a line in the sand with "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag," but on this track, the focus is much more on the groove than musical structure. Yes, a structure exists, but we can feel the vamp becoming more of a factor. Saxophone solo by Nat Jones.

"Night Train" (recorded 1967)

Brown was unanimously regarded as having the greatest stage show in Black music by the time of this gig at the Latin Casino in Cherry Hill, NJ, in January of 1967. This is an absolutely BLAZING version of "Night Train" but I don't know about that long, tedious, almost painful comedy routine in the middle, though!😆

"Let Yourself Go (Instrumental Jam)" (recorded 1967)

This is groundbreaking history here; let me set it up. For starters, this was recorded onstage after the show at the Latin Casino once the audience had cleared. Brown, to much of the band's ire, did that often—held them at the gig long after it was over to rehearse and sometimes record. Often, the band wouldn't be released until 5 or 6 a.m. But in this case, what was being rehearsed soon changed music. This is one of the last JB songs that will utilize somewhat of a song structure before ending with him freestyling over a vamp, which, coming out of a gospel tradition, was standard fare for soul artists at that time. You might recognize the ending vamp of this tune as what would become "There Was a Time," but there's more. Most funk and soul historians will cite "Cold Sweat" as the first chapter in funk. The subtle, but very significant drum pattern, with its and-of-four (sorry, a little musician speak there...) snare drum pop, set a new standard for Black music. When I heard Clyde Stubblefield experimenting with the "Cold Sweat" groove on "Let Yourself Go" some four months before it was recorded, my mind was blown! Interestingly, the version of "Let Yourself Go" that was ultimately recorded and released doesn't use the "Cold Sweat" groove. It uses a basic, snare-on-all-four-beats beat. I wonder if Brown wasn't yet sold on the offbeat snare pattern? Maybe he liked it but didn't think it fit this song? It doesn't matter. JB and Clyde give us a preview to the future, the near future, in this rehearsal recording.

"Kansas City (Live at the Apollo)" (recorded 1967)

James Brown did his live show in sets. By 1967, the show usually started with an instrumental set by the band (with Brown often joining in on organ), then Brown would do his "warm-up" set, singing standards and ballads like "I Wanna Be Around," "If I Ruled The World," "That's Life," "I Guess I’ll Have To Cry, Cry, Cry," etc. (Don't get it twisted, JB was "Soul Brother No. 1," but he was trying for some of that Vegas loot!😆 ) But to give the crowd a little taste of what was to come, he often ended his first set with Lieber & Stoller's "Kansas City." I can guarantee that when Jerry Lieber and Mike Stoller heard Brown singing their song, they never thought they’d hear it like that! Also, no drummer ever shuffled like Jabo Starks. Good gracious, that man could groove!

"It's A Man's, Man's, Man's World (Live at the Apollo)" (recorded 1967)

After a first set of standards, ballads, and a "Kansas City" teaser, you wouldn't really expect him to come back for his second set singing another ballad, would you? Not only would he sing another ballad, but this would primarily be the only song he sang during that second set. However, the sheer drama he was able to maintain, then build for almost 15 minutes is pure genius. It never, ever gets boring.

"Get It Together" (recorded 1967)

This has always been one of my personal favorites. It's the inspiration behind my song, "Gettin’ To It." It's also interesting to hear a 3-2 soul-clave drum beat. What's a "soul-clave" drum beat? A southern soul drummer interpreting Latin grooves😆. But this song has also been one of my all-time favorites because Brown, in the second half of the track, is just having so much fun with the band, almost having a rehearsal for the world to hear. "St. Clair, I’m not gonna ask you to play, Jack, ‘cause your horn is too big! Man, you got too much horn over there!"

"I Got the Feelin’" (recorded 1968)

Clyde Stubblefield is stone-cold SLAYING on this. By January of 1968, when this was recorded, there's no drummer playing like this, in a band like this, led by a man like James Brown. Brown and his band were undoubtedly leading the pack by a country mile by the time this song hit the spanet.

"Shades Of Brown" (recorded 1968)

Brown gettin’ at that organ again. When I first played this song for my dear friend, the late, great Joey DeFrancesco, we were still in high school. I blindfold tested him. He said, "I know that ain't Jimmy [Smith]. Is that [Jimmy] McGriff?" James Brown would have been flattered. Actually, no, he would have been insulted that Joey didn't think he was Jimmy Smith😆. This tune is another swingin’ shuffle for James to jam on. Interesting note: anytime Brown needed a swingin’ blues or jazz shuffle, John "Jabo" Starks’ was his go-to drummer. This time, he lets Clyde Stubblefield have it. Clyde shows everybody he can rock the shuffle, also.

"Licking Stick - Licking Stick," "There Was A Time" (recorded live in Dallas, TX. August 26, 1968)

In my humble opinion, you could say that the summer of 1968 saw James Brown at the peak of his powers in singing, social influence (as "Say It Loud - I’m Black and I’m Proud" was released in August), and box office draw. You could say the same for his band. Those rhythmic experimentations of 1967 in "Let Yourself Go," "Cold Sweat," and "Get It Together" were fully blossoming and influencing all the music around them by the summer of 1968. Motown was beginning to follow Brown's lead, as well as Atlantic Records. Jazz musicians couldn't ignore it and Brown knew it. For these reasons, I can say that without a doubt, my favorite live James Brown recording is the album from which these two tracks derive, Say It Live and Loud: Live in Dallas, 08.26.68. The band is on FIRE, James's voice is STRONG, and the audience is going MAD! That's what you’d call a trifecta. This version of "There Was A Time" is just mind-blowing. One of the few tracks where you can hear both drummers contributing—Clyde Stubblefield on the full kit, Nate Jones playing almost a secondary snare drum pattern. It is stupefying how Brown let this live album sit on the shelf for nearly 30 years.

"I Don't Want Nobody to Give Me Nothing (Open Up the Door, I’ll Get It Myself)" (recorded 1969)

Maybe you’ve heard Bootsy Collins or George Clinton describe the most important element of funk being "the one," which Bootsy learned directly from Brown. There's no greater example of a group of musicians bearing down on the first beat of every bar than this. The way Clyde Stubblefield, bassist Charles Sherrell and legendary guitarist Jimmy Nolen crash down on that D7#9 throughout the track is almost like a wrecking ball crushing a building. THIS is how you accent the "one," indeed. By the way, have you noticed the secret weapon in so many of Brown's hits thus far? Maceo Parker's saxophone solos. He's just as much the MVP of this track—and many of the others—as much as the rhythm section.

"Give It Up or Turnit A Loose" (recorded 1968)

The version of this song that has become the most popular is the one would be recorded two years later in 1970 with Clyde Stubblefield on drums and the Collins brothers, Bootsy and Catfish, on bass and guitar, respectively. That version has become a staple in the DJ/hip-hop community due to the straight-up nasty drum and bass breakdown that Clyde and Bootsy play. However, this original 1968 version features an unsung funkster in drummer Nate Jones. For a brief moment between the spring of ‘68 and the spring of ‘69, John "Jabo" Starks saw less playing time on the gig. Clyde was clocking in most of the playing time, as the outright funk of Brown's music fit Clyde's style to a tee, but Brown always kept at least two drummers, not just for musical reasons (different feels for different songs), but due also to the sheer output per show being too much for just one drummer. Nate Jones became the second drummer for a one-year stretch. For me, he feels a little like Clyde, but with Jabo's touch. Some more good examples of Nate Jones with Brown are on the Say It Live and Loud album and on the 1969 single "She's The One." You can also see Jones playing with Brown on YouTube—the January ‘69 appearance on The Mike Douglas Show (where Brown is wearing the blue v-neck) and, most famously, the March ‘69 episode of The Hollywood Palace, hosted by Sammy Davis, Jr.

"Ain't It Funky Now" (recorded 1969)

I’m not sure you could have ever called this jam a "song" or a "tune." It's simply a vamp with no lyrics and a strange 10-bar ... "bridge?" But, for me, there are no better James Brown jams than those where he's letting the band do their thing while he makes requests, gives comments, opinions, and other utterances. There is nothing more entertaining, ESPECIALLY when one of JB's organ solos is involved. Ahmir "Questlove" Thompson and I used to recite Brown's dialogue from this track almost verbatim during our high school years. So many gems here:

"Kush, you oughta be ‘shamed of yourself. Leave that little horn alone!" "Be quiet!" "Let me get in my thang!" "Yesterday, Clyde." "Don't get so deep in it, Jab. Jab! Why you wanna get so deep in it, brother?" "Let it ooze out."

And this exchange:

Brown: "Say, Jabo … brother. Do ya’ like it?"

Jabo: "Sho’ is funky now."

Brown: "Do ya’ like it?"

Jabo: "‘s funky now!"

Brown, slightly giggling: "Good God. Do ya’ like it?"

Jabo: "Yeeess, it's funky now."

Brown: "HA! HA! HA!"

😆🤣😂

As entertaining as this track is, there was an occurrence around this time that cracked the foundation of the band. It would set off a slow, but steady domino effect—the heart and soul of the unit, Pee Wee Ellis, resigned.

"Give It Up or Turnit a Loose," "Mother Popcorn" (recorded live in Augusta, GA. October 1, 1969)

It's the summer of 1969 and Brown's star is brighter than ever. He's become quite the spokesperson and entrepreneur. He's bought a restaurant, created "Black and Brown Stamps" (which were like public assistance stamps), bought two (more) radio stations, performed at the Nixon inaugural ball, had a monthly column in Soul Magazine … the man was rolling. To celebrate all this good fortune, Brown decided to record a live album in his hometown of Augusta that October. Funny thing happened, though. Melvin Parker, drummer and older brother of saxophonist, Maceo, returned to Brown's band after a stint in the Army. With Clyde Stubblefield having played on the majority of Brown's hits between ‘66–’69, Melvin, who had been Brown's primary drummer before Clyde and Jabo, was given back his old seat over Clyde. Throughout Live at Home with His Bad Self, most of the drumming you’ll hear is done by Melvin, not Clyde or Jabo. (Yes, Brown now had three drummers onstage!) While Melvin played on the original versions of "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag" and "I Feel Good," you couldn't deny Clyde as the main presence in Brown's music from a drumming standpoint. But don't misread me—Melvin could throw down! The way Melvin comes in on "Give It Up or Turnit a Loose" gives you instant "stank face," and the way he sustains the intensity on "Mother Popcorn" is unbelievable. Makes a good argument for the man James Brown once told this writer was his "favorite drummer." (Shortly after this concert, however, Clyde quit. He would make a brief, but significant return just a few months later.)

"September Song" (recorded 1969)

If you haven't figured it out by now, James Brown really liked jazz. I mean really liked jazz. It's pretty much what separated him from his peers. Most of his peers strived to be great singers, James Brown strived to be a great singing bandleader. He modeled himself after Cab Calloway, Louis Jordan, Basie, Ellington, Jimmie Lunceford, Little Richard, Bobby "Blue" Bland, and Ray Charles. Up until this point, he’d made several jazz recordings that didn't quite resonate with his hard-core soul fans, nor were they Horace Silver/Art Blakey/Cannonball Adderley-level enough for jazz fans to take seriously, but he was a superior vocal improviser (or freestyler, for all of you in the rap game). In May of 1969, in the thick of his soaring popularity, he released an album called Gettin’ Down To It, [Yikes, that title sounds dangerously familiar ], which features Brown with a Cincinnati trio led by drummer Dee Felice. It was directly aimed at the Sinatra/Sammy/Tony Bennett/Vegas crowd, with songs like "It Had To Be You," "Chicago," "All the Way," and "I Love You (for Sentimental Reasons)." Had he done that record in New York with say, Tommy Flanagan's or Barry Harris's trio, it would have been a lot different. Was James Brown a great jazz singer? Joe Williams or Johnny Hartman he was not, but he was absolutely fearless and had plenty of soul; for that, I salute him. In November, with red-hot singles like "Ain't It Funky Now," "I Don't Want Nobody to Give Me Nothing," "Let a Man Come In," "Mother Popcorn," and all of the popcorn-themed spin-off songs that Brown wrote and produced for Vicki Anderson, Hank Ballard, Bill Doggett, and more still on the charts, Brown loaded up a cannon and fired his most serious and ambitious shot at being a bonafide jazz singer. Soul On Top was a big band album that (supposedly) couldn't miss, with the main players being Louie (Louis) Bellson, Oliver Nelson, and Ray Brown. There are a lot of interesting repertoire choices throughout, but this souled-up version of the old chestnut from the 1938 musical Knickerbocker Holiday will hardly conjure thoughts of Kurt Weill, Frank Sinatra, or Nat "King" Cole. After all, it is SOUL … on top!

"There Was a Time (I Got to Move)," "Talkin’ Loud and Sayin’ Nothing" (recorded 1970)

"Soul Power" (recorded 1971)

"Sex Machine" (recorded live in Paris, March 8, 1971)

In March of 1970, the news spread throughout the music industry like wildfire—The James Brown Orchestra quit before a performance in Columbus, GA, after a list of demands were not met. Starting in June of ‘69, core members of the band slowly started to bow out. Brown's new lofty aspirations as a spokesperson, businessman, and … jazz singer, coupled with his raging-more-than-ever ego, caused the band's spirit to decay. By the time the mutiny happened, Pee Wee Ellis, Fred Wesley, Clyde Stubblefield, St. Clair Pinckney, and Marva Whitney were already gone. The brunt of the band responsibilities fell on the shoulders of Maceo Parker.

However, Maceo and the band (that remained) had had enough of Brown's militaristic drilling, over-rehearsing, mind games, and mental abuse. They infamously called a meeting with Brown before that show in Columbus, airing their grievances and demanding a different work environment, among other specifics (pay raises, no more rehearsals after the gig, no more fines, etc.) Brown, on brand, said no. The band made an about face, packed up their instruments and left Brown without a band 30 minutes before showtime. Brown, being the maniacal, plotting, scheming, never-to-be-beaten fighter that he was, had a feeling that this may have been coming, so starting the year before, he’d started keeping his eye on a young group of fresh and funky musicians from Cincinnati called the Pacesetters, featuring 26-year-old guitarist Phelps "Catfish" Collins, and his 18-year-old bass-playing little brother, Bootsy. So when his band left him 30 minutes before showtime, he had Bobby Byrd make a phone call to Cincinnati to track down the Pacesetters in a bar where they held a weekly gig. Brown immediately sent his private jet to pick up the Pacesetters and bring them to Columbus for the gig. The show started almost three hours late, but what the perturbed audience saw that night was James Brown playing his first gig with a group of young, raw musicians about to change the course of funk history.

Brown would soon rechristen them the J.B.'s. Over the next 12 months, Brown surpassed his chart success from the previous year and changed his sound to one even more modern, stronger, and fresher with anthems like "Sex Machine," "Super Bad," and "Get Up, Get Into It, Get Involved." According to records, Brown was in the studio nearly every two to four weeks recording with his new troops: instrumentals, tracks for Bobby Byrd, Vicki Anderson, and of course, the boss himself. With the virtuosic playing of Bootsy and Catfish, the addition of percussionist Johnny Griggs, and most importantly, the (brief) return of Clyde Stubblefield, "I Got To Move," "Talkin’ Loud and Sayin’ Nothing," "Soul Power," and "Sex Machine" (which, for the record, all feature Jabo on drums) are but only four of a slew of historic C-4 funk bombs made in that 12-month span. Oh yeah, the message of this story? If you think you have James Brown cornered, you don't.

[The lead up to] "Escape-Ism" (recorded in 1971)

Welp, so much for that groundbreaking new band Brown had for a year.😂 Turns out, he ran them into the ground just as he had his previous band. One of the biggest differences between what we JB fans call the "Bootsy band" and the "Pee Wee band" was that Bootsy, Catfish, and all of the other 20-somethings in that band were a part of the free love drug culture that was dominant at the time. They didn't have families to support or too many non-musical responsibilities, so they were wild, crazy, and fancy-free. When Brown would throw one of his frequent angry tirades, Bootsy was quoted as saying, "We laughed at him!" That insubordination only made Brown angrier, then baffled when he realized that he couldn't get under their skin. Nobody seems to know exactly if the band quit, or if Brown fired them, but after only 12 months, Brown was shopping around for yet another new band.

Maybe six to seven months into the Bootsy era, trombonist Fred Wesley returned. Brown was quite happy to see him, offering him the gig as musical director. He needed an experienced, trained musician to balance out the raw energy of the fiery youngsters. But it is also imperative to mention that there was one musician who did not join his fellow band members during that infamous 1970 mutiny—drummer, John "Jabo" Starks. According to Starks, he was one of the only, if not the only band member with whom Brown ever had to have a personal contract. Jabo was part of both the Pee Wee-era band and the Bootsy-era band, without interruption. Brown decided to build his next band around Fred and Jabo.

According to Wesley's autobiography, Hit Me, Fred: Recollections of a Sideman, he only had a couple of weeks to find Brown a new band, rehearse them, and get them ready for a string of gigs. As Wesley excitedly rounded up some of the finest musicians he knew, Brown abruptly called him off, saying that he’d found some musicians on his own that he wanted Wesley to train. According to Wesley, when he heard the musicians that Brown hired, he was … most unimpressed; Wesley was shocked at the amateur skill level of most of Brown's picks. However, this was the band that Brown wanted to work with, so Wesley was saddled with trying to make beginner musicians sound like a James Brown–worthy band in just a matter of weeks. The first live recording of this band is 1971′s Revolution of the Mind: Live at the Apollo, Vol. III, recorded just two months into their tenure. James Brown knew one thing for certain—that Fred Wesley was (and still is) a genius, because somehow, he pulled these amateurs together and got their funk levels up to speed quickly. Welcome to the Fred Wesley era, 1971–1975.

"Hot Pants Finale" (recorded live at the Apollo Theater, June, 1971)

"There It Is," "Get On The Good Foot" (recorded 1972)

"The Payback," "Stone To The Bone," "Mind Power," "Papa Don't Take No Mess" (recorded 1973)

"Coldblooded," "I Can't Stand It ‘76′" (recorded 1974)

With the exception of "Hot Pants Finale," none of these tracks are particularly deep cuts, but they do give a clear example of just how powerful James Brown's music and presence still was during the Fred Wesley era. In ‘71 and ‘72, he had a total of eight Top Ten hits, clearly still at the peak of his game. Alas, all good things might not end, but they do get challenged. In the late summer of ‘72, Brown supported Richard Nixon for re-election. For a man who made "Say It Loud - I’m Black and I’m Proud," a large contingent of Brown's fans were perplexed and angry. After Nixon's first term as president, it was clear that he was not on the side of Black people, so how could Brown support him … again? Almost instantaneously, Brown's record and ticket sales suffered. Fans protested his performances with signs that read, "James Brown = Nixon's Clown" to "SOLD Brother Number One." But Brown, being the headstrong, indignant man that he was, stood unequivocally by his choice. Once his angry fans realized that protest wouldn't change his mind, Brown did what he did best—create some funk that even a shaky political endorsement couldn't stop. After a slow 1973 (on the charts, that is), Brown released his hottest single since "Hot Pants." In January of ‘74, "The Payback" was released. The track was so groundbreaking, it gave Brown's career a new wind. He changed his look with a new mustache, updated his show and suddenly, just like that, it was like 1969 all over again. Not to mention, key members of the ‘60s Pee Wee era band were back: Maceo Parker, Jimmy Nolen, St. Clair Pinckney, and "Sweet Charles" Sherrell. It was just like old times. Hmmmm … old times?

Something else happened right under James Brown's nose—he became a legacy artist. Some feel that being called a "legacy artist" is code for "old." Brown turned 40 in 1973. Certainly not old by any stretch, but at that time, to a record buying demographic it could have been considered teetering on ancient. Teenage record buyers then didn't seem to follow artists that were close to their parent's age. (Then again, legacy artists didn't stay looking as young as they do now, either.) By ‘73 and most certainly by ‘74, there was an entirely new era of soul and funk: The Jackson 5; Kool & The Gang; Earth, Wind & Fire; Parliament/Funkadelic; MFSB; War; Mandrill; B.T. Express; Barry White; Tower of Power; The Fatback Band; Rufus and Chaka Khan; Average White Band, and so many more, were the new, fresh voices of funk. Unanimously, they named James Brown as a primary influence. What did that mean to Brown? It meant that girls aged 18–25 were no longer his main audience. They were now a bit more mature. Brown never admitted it, but Fred Wesley, Maceo Parker, and others who were around him in the mid-’70s felt that Brown had poorly handled this next phase of his career. Instead of feeling prideful that he was the towering hero to an entire generation of new artists, while still selling out theaters and creating important music himself, he considered them threats to a throne that they had no right to have. To Brown, they were blatantly and consciously stealing from him, as if it were all a big conspiracy.

Brown went on a personal campaign to "steal his sound back." When the Average White Band released "Pick Up the Pieces" in 1974, Brown responded by recording an instrumental track with the J.B.'s called "Pick Up the Pieces, One By One," released under the fake band name Above Average Black Band. When B.T. Express released their 1975 single, "Express," Brown responded by recording an almost exact replica of their track, calling his version "(It's Not the Express), It's J.B.'s Monorail." When David Bowie released his smash single "Fame," Brown became so irate, he ordered Fred Wesley to copy Bowie's track verbatim, as he had done with the aforementioned tracks. Brown wrote new lyrics and released it as a single called "Hot (I Need To Be Loved, Loved, Loved, Loved)." Everyone in Brown's camp, particularly Wesley, felt that Brown was losing his grip on reality. He spent innumerable hours chasing down singles that he felt sounded like him, and if he felt like a song had too much "James Brown" in it, he was coming after you. His paranoia and hubris reached unbelievable (and unbearable) heights. Wesley begged Brown to stop worrying about what everyone else was doing and to concentrate on his own fail-safe formula. According to Wesley, "We were still cranking out some serious funk. We had plenty of gas in the tank." Indeed they did.

"I Got You (I Feel Good)" (recorded 1975)

This ain't the "I Feel Good" you think it is. During Brown's paranoid, rant-filled 1975, he managed to make two final solo albums with the Fred Wesley-era J.B.'s, Sex Machine Today and Everybody's Doin’ the Hustle & Dead on the Double Bump." Wesley was correct—they had plenty of magic left. On Sex Machine Today, Wesley gives Brown's classic "I Feel Good" a 10-year-birthday makeover. It's funkier, it's nastier, it's KILLER! (On another note, on this same album, Brown goes off for two and a half minutes about everyone stealing from him and not giving him credit on the track, "Dead On It." I didn't pick that track for my playlist because I felt that other than his rant, it's not a particularly memorable track. But listen to it. You might like it!)

"Papa's Got a Brand New Bag" (recorded 1975)

Another genius Fred Wesley makeover for another JB classic. The horn lines, the rhythm, the entire arrangement is just incredible. It could have been played by the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Orchestra. Wesley really comes into his own as an arranger on this. As for Brown, the original 1965 storyline of "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag" was that of a hipster. He was cool, clean, and knew everything that was happening on the block. A bit of a hustler, perhaps? This brilliant reworking now has Papa "Giving up the streets … taking a nine-to-five!" Genius. But, Brown's naughty mean streak comes out when he tells his rock, Maceo Parker, "Maceo! You don't play like you used to!" For real, James???🤦🏽‍♂️

"Kansas City" (recorded 1975)

The James Brown Show played Madison Square Garden for the second year in a row on July 4, 1975. Charles Bobbit, JB's longtime manager, begged Brown not to rent the arena, but the Felt Forum (the smaller theater inside MSG) instead. He knew Brown would take a monumental financial loss trying to fill the main arena. The year prior, they had just barely filled the Garden and Brown was determined to prove that he could do it again. Less than half the house was sold and Brown went ballistic, blaming everyone from Bobbit to WBLS and their DJ Frankie Crocker, to Polydor Records and even the New York City Council. He would never consider that it simply wasn't 1968 anymore. After yet another major rant backstage, Fred Wesley hit a wall (literally, perhaps?) and abruptly left the area, and James Brown, for good. It officially spaned the end of Brown's last "Golden Era." After Fred, Bobbit soon departed, along with Maceo, Jabo, drummer John Morgan, bassist Fred Thomas, and guitarist Cheese Martin. James was back to square one once again.

But about a month before that doomed MSG gig, JB recorded what turned out to be quite a prophetic session. He called on former band members to play with the current band to record a new arrangement of "Kansas City." In this version, Brown seems more reflective than usual. Maybe he knew the cats were getting fed up, or this was one last ditch effort to remind the band, and himself, of his legacy. It's one of my favorite JB tracks. Fred was right, they had plenty of gas left in the tank. It's a shame it ended. I’m sure the funk of this band would have not only withstood but perhaps blown right through the disco hurricane.

"This Feeling" (recorded 1975)

Being such a pre-1976 James Brown snob, even as a kid, I never gave the Get Up Offa That Thing album much of a shot. Yeah, I knew the title track became somewhat of a hit, but in my mind, if James Brown made a record in the mid-’70s without Fred, Maceo, and Jabo, I didn't want to hear it. For the third time in Brown's career, he again welcomed Maceo's older brother, Melvin, to take over as first-chair drummer. So even in ‘76, there was some old-school, original sound in the band. But would it be enough funk?

One Saturday night around 2014 or ‘15, I was streaming my friend DJ Soul Sister's radio show from WWOZ in New Orleans and a James Brown track I’d never heard came on. It was a reworking of "I Got a Feeling." I heard Fred, I heard Maceo, and I could tell it was probably Melvin on drums. I stood frozen in front of my speakers. What James Brown track from the mid-’70s could have possibly slipped by me?? Turns out, this was a buried track from Get Up Offa That Thing called "This Feeling." That's what I got for not listening to that album all the way through when I was a kid! This is a big hunk o’ funk! Turns out, this track was made in 1975 when Fred was reimagining and rearranging some of Brown's ‘60s hits. "This Feeling" could have been (should have been?) on the Everybody's Doin’ The Hustle & Dead on the Double Bump album.

"Body Heat" (recorded 1976)

Yes, I know this was recorded in 1976, but I have always liked "Body Heat." Brown updated his sound slightly. What makes this old-school JB is the ever-present, fail-safe vamp with scratch guitar and the obligatory cued "bridge," but the sound is different. The way Brown historically recorded his band wasn't unlike the way jazz musicians recorded. What they played in the studio was exactly what you heard on the record—mistakes and all. More specifically, none of Brown's drummers ever used more than a 20-inch bass drum. By funk and rock standards, that was sooooo jazzy. (Listen to the high-pitched tone of Jabo's bass drum on JB's January ‘73 Soul Train appearance. It sounds like a bebop bass drum.) By the mid-’70s, most funk and rock drummers (and especially drummers on disco albums) were using, at the very least, a 22-inch bass drum, and often it would be stuffed with pillows or something to deaden the sound, which, in the club, would make the bass drum sound like a stronger-than-life frequency that was to be felt, not heard. Programmed drums of the ‘80s, which became the sound of house, hip-hop, pop, and EDM, mimicked the sound of that bass drum "thud." This is the closest the classic JB sound got to that. Melvin's pocket and bass drum are Hercules-strong on this. Now that I think about it, 1976 and 1977′s Mutha's Nature may not have been that bad, after all.😂 (Can you believe I’m saying this, Ahmir??😳😳)

Apparently, Prince was a huge fan of all of the albums that Brown made during the disco era like Jam 1980′s, Take a Look at Those Cakes, Soul Syndrome, Nonstop!, People, and (God forbid) The Original Disco Man. The only record Brown made during this period that I liked was Hot On the One, recorded live in Japan at the end of 1979. It showed that Brown was still a superior live performer with the tightest band in the business. My hat's off to Prince for being able to still find the funk in Brown's music during this period, which I felt had been altered by disco. Knowing what a legend Prince became, he was onto something.

In the 1980s, you could see anyone from James Brown's halcyon days back in the band for a stint as Bobby Byrd, Maceo Parker, Fred Wesley, Pee Wee Ellis, Fred Thomas, Sweet Charles Sherrell, and more all rejoined the James Brown band for various stints. Although it felt more nostalgic than contemporary, it showed that James Brown's world was one of the most important universes in our musical solar system.

Please enjoy these jams by the Godfather.