James Brown: Super Bad (1971)

I think my official birthday jam has become “Gotta Get Yo Groove On”, but I’ve been on this James Brown kick for a couple of weeks, so that’s where I’m goin’ with it. Besides, without James Brown, who knows if Tevin or anybody else would be groovin’ anyway?

I’ve taken greater notice of James Brown, and only because of Chadwick Boseman’s portrayal of him in Get On Up. I’d been reluctant to see it because I’d expected the film to be farcical, and because of some foolishness I’ll discuss down the road. This week, though, I saw it, I like it, and I’ll write about that later.

I’m used to James Brown being a punchline for folks like Keenan Ivory Wayans (A Low Down Dirty Shame), Eddie Murphy (“The Hot Tub”), and Kevin Hart (“Chicken Parm”). By the time I was born, James Brown had become a joke of sorts, so — I guess — it’d been hard for me to want study him and his body of work.

Even in considering his musical impact, there’s still always something missing. I mean, we know James Brown as the major influence of the likes of Michael Jackson, Prince, Van Hunt, Mick Jagger, and countless other major names. We know him as The Hardest Workin’ Man In Show Business (I’ll write about that later, too.). He’s undeniably the Godfather of Soul, but what about honoring him as the Architect of Funk?

To be honest, until now I’d never been a major fan of Father Brown’s music, but “Payback” is one of my favorite songs. I hadn’t heard it and I hadn’t known that anything like it existed until the release of the Dead Presidents soundtrack. I know. Sad but true. Anyway, from that time ’til this one, “Payback” is the fonkiest (yes, fonkiest) thing I’ve EVER heard. PERIOD. Until seeing Get On Up, I didn’t know that that kind of funk — that “Payback” funk and any other funk, for that matter — was Father Brown’s invention.

Because I can cut up to it pretty badly, dedicating a post to it would probably seem logical, but I’m not there. What has me bound today is “Super Bad”. It seems to be to James Brown what “Love” seems to be for Mos Def — in my opinion, anyway. Although I’m trying to let go of some of my egotistical ideas and lone-dwelling habits, a piece of that stuff has to stick with me. Now, I won’t be anybody’s James Brown, but I most certainly can’t be my greatest Kenisha if I don’t listen to that “somethin’ that makes me want to shout” and “and that somethin’ that tells me what it’s all about”.

Father Brown listened to his, and I’d do well, I guess, to keep listening to mine. Here’s to not waitin’ for someone else to do. Here’s to defying convention for its own sake. Here’s to singin’ my own song and doin’ my own dance. Here’s to creatin’.

Thank you, James Brown, and happy birthday to me. Here’s to havin’ soul. Here’s to another year of bein’ super bad.