Funk meister goes on the record

James Brown

It's quite a sight. James Brown, Godfather of Soul, is sitting in front of me with his hair up in green, pink and purple rollers. He's wearing a grey bandleader's suit and no shirt, and save for his pot-belly, his torso is surprisingly muscular.

Behind him, a blond woman prepares to comb out his still lustrous pompadour, and to my left, Brown's manager and bandmate Charles Bobbit is on hand to vet my questions.

"Just music," Bobbit had warned me earlier before an interview that didn't happen twice. "Ask Mr Brown anything too personal, and your time is up."

Had Bobbit been managing anybody else, I'd have told him to stuff it. But Bobbit manages James Brown, the 71-year-old maverick with 119 chart singles and more than 50 best-selling albums to his name.

Without Brown, there would be no Prince or Michael Jackson. Without Brown, R&B may never have become soul, and funk may never have been invented. And Brown pioneered the soundtrack for Black Pride.

But he is also the former jailbird whose drug use, penchant for firearms and alleged beating of his 33-year-old fourth wife, Tomi Ray, are not up for discussion.

We start with the easy stuff. Yes, his recognition as a legend means a lot to him, but the funk, see, that's different from rock'n'roll, because rock'n'roll can sometimes bring you down, but funk always lifts you up.

"Funk isn't like Mozart or Bach, either," Brown adds, flashing his dazzling smile. "With Mozart you have so many bars and then you have to go to the bridge, but with funk I can call out one change all night and it will work. It works because God sends it to me and there's no sheet [music] with it. I have to have a photographic mind to remember all those licks."

I, too, am concentrating extra hard here - and not only because of Brown's obscure diction. While part of me is taking in his strong, sculpted-looking features and wondering just how badly a question about his time inside might play, another part of me hovers above the situation in a state of near awe. This, after all, is Mr Dynamite, the leader of various line-ups whose chicken-scratch guitars, taut, punctuating horns and dangerously kinetic grooves have been endlessly dissected, sampled and lauded.

When Brown's 1965 single Papa's Got A Brand New Bag cleverly shifted the traditional accent of the downbeat, it was the musical equivalent of reinventing the wheel.

You could argue that Brown's genius reached its zenith on 1970's Get Up (I Feel Like Being A) Sex Machine, a ridiculously propulsive groove with choice bass-playing from future Funkadelic and Parliament star, Bootsy Collins. What, though, did the moral majority make of its bawdy lyric at the time?

"Sex Machine was never sexy," says Brown, surprisingly. "You never listened to the lyric; the message was 'Don't be a wallflower', that's all. It was about a fella and his girlfriend at a dance hall, and all of a sudden he wants to dance, to celebrate the fruits of life."

At this, my host leaps from his chair with alacrity that belies his years, then proceeds to pop some spins and slides.

Brown spent most of his childhood living at his aunt Honey's brothel in Augusta, Georgia. At 16 he took part in an armed robbery and was sentenced to eight years' hard labour. Inside he met the Famous Flames singer Bobby Byrd. Having cut a gospel demo with Byrd's band, Brown established himself on the live circuit. By 1956, he had scored a hit with Please, Please, Please which later featured on his legendary 1963 album, Live at the Apollo.

Despite Brown's numerous chart appearances, dubious contracts and botched deals have left him with far less cash than many of his peers. And with hefty tax debts reportedly now pressing, attempts to improve his finances are on the front-burner.

"My big hits were million-sellers back then, so by now that must have quadrupled. Some artists seem to have all the money in the world and hardly wrote a song. But me, I worked hard and don't have that much to show for it ... All I want is what's owed to me. I'd give it back to the kids, anyway. We send black kids to college, Mr Bobbit and I, because we know that knowledge is the only thing that will get kids through. I only got a seventh-grade education, but I have a doctorate in funk, and I like to put that to good use."

Visit www.godfatherofsoul.com (link below), and you'll find a selection of his good deeds listed. What's not mentioned are some of Mr Dynamite's other activities: in 1988, after a high-speed car chase from Georgia to South Carolina, he was charged with aggravated assault with a shotgun and possession of the drug PCP; and in 1998, he was charged with unlawful use of a firearm. In January last year Brown was arrested and charged with pushing his wife, Tomi Ray, to the floor and threatening to kill her. He later escaped with a $US1087 ($1565) fine.

Still, it wasn't the kind of incident that made Brown's admonition that we should "love the family more, love mom and dad more" easy to swallow.

Bobbit wants to wind things up. But I can't let Brown go without a few more questions. What does he do when he's not working?

"When I'm not doing music, I try to find me the prettiest woman I can," he says. "That makes sense, don't it?" Does he believe in a Day of Judgement? "Yes. I believe it because the Bible says so, and that's the only thing I go by. But my human instinct tells me that a lot of us are real quick to judge other people ... "

At this, Bobbit leans across to intervene: "You know, we really do prefer questions about music."

Okay. Can Brown imagine retiring? "There are only two things that will make me retire," he says, "and I hope you press people don't force it. I don't like folks interfering with my personal business, or telling me what to do. But if this man [he points at Bobbit] gets out of the business, I'm quitting anyway. I believe in God, but I also believe in angels. And Mr Bobbit is definitely an angel."

Bobbit smiles bashfully and gets to his feet. "We appreciate it," he says, ushering me out.

"And God bless you, sir!" shouts Brown.

LOWDOWN
Who: James Brown, Godfather of Soul, Funk Doctor etc
Born: Barnwell, South Carolina, May 3, 1933
Playing: Civic, Auckland, Friday, Feb 10
Tickets: $195 and $145 via Ticketek

- INDEPENDENT