The Hardest-Working Man at Rest

The Godfather of Soul, the Hardest-Working Man in Show Business, Soul Brother No. 1, and holder of probably an infinite number of other nicknames passed away early Christmas morning. You've probably already seen this, but I've been completely out of the news cycle, myself, but I can't let this go by without a comment. Brown has just about been pushed him off the CNN title page by the even more recent death of former President Ford (which I have less to say about, so I may get to him later, but I'll offer condolences now in case I don't), but their obituary is obviously still available in the back pages. They've also got a video montage of performances (I tried to link, but it seems you can only access it through the CNN page)--none are more than about ten years old, unfortunately, so you don't see vintage James Brown, but there's enough there to get an idea. It's also unfortunate that this montage didn't include his classic routine of falling to exhaustion on stage, being wrapped in a cape for warmth and helped offstage by an aide, but then fighting him off to return to the spotlight--the man couldn't stop performing. You may have seen the homage version Paul Schaffer did for a while on Letterman, in which a different celebrity carried the cape each night. The climax (although for some reason not the final time they did the bit, because where else was there to go with it) was when James Brown himself came out with the cape, and not even he could keep Schaffer from the microphone. Ken Tucker has a very nice appreciation in Entertainment Weekly that reminds us Brown was far more of an innovator than we often remember.

Brown was an inexhaustible source of music and ideas. In his last years, his voice became ragged, but in his 1960s and 1970s prime, Brown was a vocalist of extraordinary range, able to lift that gruff tenor into a falsetto that could pierce with impeccable control. He was a brilliant improviser, with an array of grunts, moans, shrieks, and croons that as pure sounds were as expressive as any lyrics he ever enunciated. Brown, overseeing bands that at various times included guitarist Jimmy Nolan, Pee Wee Ellis on keyboards and saxophone, trombonist Fred Wesley, saxophonist Maceo Parker, and future George Clinton bassist Bootsy Collins, placed the beat in front of the melody, devised intricate beats that shifted in intensity and rapidity within a single composition. Ignorant listeners thought many of his songs ''sounded the same''; in fact, one reason his album cuts (as opposed to songs pared down for radio airplay) could last for nine or ten minutes or more was because every verse, every chorus, contained tiny, constant changes in rhythm and emphasis.

I don't know for sure, but I suspect it's still true that James Brown and George Clinton are the two most-sampled recording artists (a two-year-old news story from mp3.com claims that "Funky Drummer" is the most-sampled song of all time), and not to take anything away from Clinton, but much of what he did was building on ground broken by James Brown years earlier. Even setting aside the samples, Brown is easily one of the most influential musicians of the last hundred years--don't let his skills as an entertainer dazzle you so much you don't take notice. He's got a deep, deep catalog, and this week when many of us may be off work (and even those who go into work usually don't have that much to do in the week before the new year) would be the perfect time to explore it.