"Think (About It)" (Lyn Collins)

"Think (About It)" by Lyn Collins.  People almost never recognize this song when I mention it by name.  
(Blank stares and crickets chirping, every time.)
But play it for people once and dawn-breaking recognition spreads across their faces. 
Homework assignment: go to whosampled.com, and do a search on how many times "Think (About It)" has been sliced and diced by the hip-hop and R&B worlds.  (The current count on the site: 930 times!)  The most famous and immediately recognizable instance is Rob Base & DJ EZ-Rock's "It Takes Two" (1988), which is built entirely upon the song's break.
So who was Lyn Collins?
She was an Abilene, TX-based singer whose concert promoter husband helped her slip James Brown a demo tape.  Brown liked what he heard and, in 1971, asked her to join his road show, the James Brown Revue—a massive, circus-like touring company of dancers, singers, and musicians.  
City by city, her reputation grew for being able to hold her own, belting out songs alongside Brown.  It even earned her the nickname "The Female Preacher."
So it's no coincidence that the Brown-penned "Think (About It)" (1972) opens with Collins singing a Sunday morning-style homily on unreliable, two-timing men before she dives headlong into some raw, booty-shakin' funk.  
There's just so much going on on this track: the ascending sax riff; the syncopated organ and bass; the churchy, jangling tambourine; the "on-the-one" polyrhythms; and then there's Brown, hollering out changes to the band and/or just plain hollering in the background while Collins is doing her thing out front.
But what makes this song truly classic is the break.  Actually, the two breaks.
They come out of nowhere, are in a completely different key from the rest of the track, and don't seem to have much to do with anything else, lyrically.  The moment Brown screams Yeah! / Woo! and Collins sings It takes two to make a thing go right..., you feel like you've stumbled into another song.  And then, just as quickly, you're back again.
It takes moxie to jump to an entirely different key for twenty seconds and then slip back to the original groove again like it's no thing.  
But, then again, that was Brown.