Wednesday, December 25, 2013

"There Was A Time" (James Brown)

The next song on my list falls strangely enough on the 7th anniversary of the passing of James Brown, another legendary artist who, in my opinion, has been unfairly reduced to a pop caricature.  Granted, that's at least partially Brown's own fault, what with his misguided support of Richard Nixon in the 1970s, various drug- and assault-related arrests in the late 80s, and his association with rap pop train wreck MC Hammer in the 90s.  But for all of those questionable choices, he more than earned the crown of "the hardest working man in show business" several times over.  No one (not even Michael Jackson in his prime) set a stage ablaze the way Brown could.  Also, few can lay claim to inventing a whole new genre of music.  
Brown started out as an R&B crooner / doo-wop performer with The Famous Flames in the 50s.  By the 60s, he had moved away from ballads and pursued a more rhythm-driven approach, which blended elements of R&B, soul, gospel, and African polyrhythms to create what came to be known as "funk."  (Some music historians point to "Cold Sweat" as the first funk song.  Personally, I think it began with "Papa's Got A Brand New Bag."  The syncopation, the horn riffs, and that onslaught of 16th note strums on the guitar--that's proto-funk.  The song title even signals that Brown knew he had something fresh.)
But the song I want to focus on is "There Was A Time."  Recorded live in 1967 at Harlem's Apollo Theater, it is a prime example of Brown as an electrifying performer and bandleader.   (The full track from Live at the Apollo, Vol. II (1967) is actually a medley of the songs "Let Yourself Go," "There Was  A Time," and "I Feel Alright; but the performance is commonly called "There Was A Time" because the riff that underpins the whole sequence comes from that song.)  
In all, it's basically a showcase for Brown to show off his dance moves and get the crowd involved in the show.  At the end of each verse, he introduces the next dance (the boogaloo, the mashed potato, the camel walk, and his own eponymous dance), and then proceeds to bust that move while the band funks out.  
And, Lord almighty, that band.
They are locked into a tight groove, instantly reacting every time Brown gives them a cue.  (They knew better than to miss a cue, otherwise it meant paying one of Brown's infamous fines, which he levied for anything from sour notes to one's shoes not being properly shined.)  And if you're wondering, Brown's uhn's! heeey's! and oww's! weren't just random punctuation; they were directions to his band to play louder/softer, play a fill, play a vamp, hit the snare, lay back and let someone solo, etc.
I'm posting two versions of this monumental track: the first is from the aforementioned Live at the Apollo, Vol. II album.  The second is a recording of his 1968 performance at the Boston Garden.  This recording is significant not only for capturing Brown's raw, no-holds-barred performance.  But it also is known as the night Brown saved Boston from riots in the wake of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s assassination.  Boston city officials feared violence in the streets if Brown was allowed to perform a scheduled show at the Boston Garden the day after King's murder.  However, Brown not only convinced officials to let him perform the show, he also convinced local TV to record and air the show.  The result?  While other cities erupted in violence, there were no riots in Boston the night of Brown's concert.  Just goes to show how influential a performer and voice the man was.  And that should not be forgotten.
(P.S. I also added a little bonus.  Merry Christmas!)






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