The James Brown Reader by Nelson George

Author:Nelson George
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2008-09-04T16:00:00+00:00

“Anything Left in Papa’s Bag?”

Steve Bloom

September 1, 1980 • Down Beat

I’m riding in an elevator at New York’s elegant Sherry Netherland Hotel with James Brown, the world-renowned Godfather of Soul. As we descend some 20 floors to the lobby, Brown kibitzes with the operator.

“May I ask you a question, sir?” he begins. “Am I the greatest soul singer to ever stay in this hotel?”

The operator, sensing a perfect opportunity, smiles and drapes his arms around the Godfather’s muscular shoulders.

“Pendergrass stayed here, sir,” he says, staring directly into Brown’s unblinking eyes. “But he couldn’t even shine your shoes.”

Everyone in the elevator bursts with laughter. Brown, totally ingratiated, shakes the operator’s hand and thanks him “very much.” As if on cue, the car suddenly lands. Two well built members of Brown’s predominately male entourage fan out to the left and right, each holding a door. Brown takes the lead and bounces on through. The contingent follows the Godfather of Soul into the lobby.

There is little doubt that James Brown, whose career now spans four decades, is the legend of modern black popular music.

There is little doubt, too, that James Brown especially enjoys letting people know all about it. In conversation, he repeatedly compares himself to Elvis Presley, but that’s not all. One of his favorite braggadocios goes something like this: “My contention is that there were three B’s, and now there’s four: Beethoven, Bach, Brahms and now, Brown.”

That Brown insists on informing others of his talents and of the inestimable gifts which he has bestowed upon mankind is often laughable; his words, however, are also pointed and usually contain bits of the truth. Certainly if egos were balloons his would be a blimp. Still, James Brown hasn’t shined anybody else’s shoes since he was a young turk growing up in Georgia. That is, not until the last few years.

There was a time when James Brown records were fixtures on every turntable in every black home across America. A tune called Please, Please, Please, recorded by the Cincinnati-based King Records, started the ball rolling in 1956. Soul classics like I Got You (I Feel Good) (1965), Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag (1965) and Cold Sweat (1966) followed, bringing James Brown to the attention of millions of listeners. He shouted and hollered; he wore sequins and wigs and makeup. Like his peers Little Richard and Chuck Berry, his appearance was that of a rock and roll star.

But there was one difference. Brown’s music—an amalgam of gospel testifying, backwoods funk, and even jazzy innovation that had never been heard before—was a modern twist on rhythm and blues. Though it really was just a stone’s throw from early rock and roll, Brown was relegated to second class status, confined to the chitlin scene. James Brown didn’t go for that at all—instead of touring low pay, funky nightclubs, he wanted a piece of the concert action that rock and rollers took for granted. Since no one was about to steer him in that direction, he grabbed the controls himself.

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