The Michigan Daily-Tuesday, July 8, 1980-Page 7
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ihhe Godfa.,,t her strikes back

By MARK COLEMAN
If any reporter lives up to the repu-
tation of being a "living legend" it's
James Brown. This human dynamo has
been known as the Hardest Working
Man in Show Business for twenty five
years now and judging from his Ann

lot more than just another concert, it's
a full-fledged -event. Those monster
bills of the sixties, featuring James
headlining a vaudevillian bevy of
singers, vocal groups, comedians and
you-name-it, have been buried, but the
underlying concept lingers on. Among

SUDDENLY THE band soundeu
more than ok, responding to James'
impassioned demands ("Hit Me") and
directives with a loose, but not lucid,
fervor. The two drummers put down the
steady syncopation essential to the up-
tempo hops while the guitarists strum-

"tight" and "well-rehearsed." He'll
swing around in one of his pirouette-
contortions, knock the microphone over
and swing back around, grab the mike
at the last minute and start the next
chorus before anybody knows what
happened. And he's got this look of
blissful omnipotence on his face the
whole time, as if he knows how good he
is but it still blows him away more than
anyone. When James Brown "gets it on
the good foot," he steps on it.
The song selection last Tuesday was
comprehensive, neither condescen-
dingly nostalgic or obliviously recent.
He touched all the bases, from "I Feel
Good (I Got You)" to newer stuff like
"Jam-1980's." Only James could
cover such a vast repertoire with any
continuity-it all sounded hot. The
single female vocalist was a poor sub-
stitute for the Famous Flames on
ballad-blasts of emotion like "Try Me"
and "Please, Please, Please" and "It's
a Man's World" lends itself to some up-
plesasant (if misguided) inter-
pretation, but it's that up-tempo dance
groove that people come to hear and I
don't think anyone left disappointed.
The surprise of the evening came
when bassist William "Bootsy"
ColIlins, who got his start in the J.B.'s
came on for an impromptu song.
Leading the band into Parliament's
"Tear the Roof Off The Sucker," Boot-
sty supplied a thumbing-plucking im-
petus in the thunk-plunk-bounce style
that he has perfected (forget Stanley
Clarke). Meanwhile James chanted the
chorus "We need the funk-give up the
funk" slyly grinning approval the whole
time, like a master magician who has
successfully taught the young protege
all his tricks save one.
The crowd's energy climaxed at that
point, and it held for the rest of the set,
as the band churning out one funky,
rhythm-oriented riff after another.
When Brown launched into the classic
"Pap's Got A Brand New Bag," with its
jamgling, stacatto guitar line, it soun-
ded fresher than 75 per cent of the
music that has been derived from it.
That "bag" is still full of surprises. Call
him the Original Disco Man, The King
of Soul, call him whatever you
want*-just remember that James
Brown is back and he's as bad as ever.
Art sttt s
9:30anm -:30 pm
Tuesday through Sunday

Breaking out in a "Cold Sweat" here is near-legendary singer James Brown, shown during his performance a week
ago at the Second Chance. Brown proved his reputation as one of the most hard working, exciting performers around
to a capacity crowd.
Arbor appearance last week, that other diversions, last week's bill began med those chunky, repetitive chord p
retirement village is still a long way off. with a fashion show precariously en- terns endemic to any groove. His vo
Those self-important titles likel Mr. trenched somewhere between low does show signs of wear and tear 1
Dynamite and the Godfather of Soul budget and low comedy. "And here's James still belts raw passion, inflect
aren't hype: James earned 'em playing Norine, modeling a sleek polyester... phrases with screams and shou
everywhere from the chitlin' circuit to dress with an accompanying blue print twisting sighs and guttural moans i
white boojie nightclubs while issuing a jacket that can be taken off to reveal a language far more expressive th
string of hits unmatched, in terms of the stylish spaghetti straps"-much to mere English.
pure consistency, by anyone. Funk, the the vocal delight of the male members While the current incarnation of,
driving rhythm pioneered by Brown in of the audience. J.B.'s can't compare to the music
the sixties and perfected in the early ship of their predecessors Fred Wes
seventies, has become the dominant if The eventual appearance of the and Maceo Parker, they are lock
not definitive force in Black popular J. B.'s, Brown's back-up band, offered solidly in the groove behind their m
music. Not to mention the dancing: only faint encouragement. After a good tor, matching Brown's soulfull spas
without James there would be no Mick fifteen minutes of standing around the identically with disciplined horn blas
Jagger, let alone Iggy Pop or John launched into some instrumental funk breaking rhythm exactly when Jan
Travolta. as perfunctory and raggedy as their turns around. They've got it down to1
BUT JAMES BROWN is hardly in- three-piece disco suits. Things got even last symbal crash and pelvic thri
clined to sit back and smile approvingly more stolid as they let loose lukewarm James seems to exude some kind
as a new generation follows in his foot- readings of some incredibly vapic mystical control over it all, an preset
steps. He is definitely more reserved, (even for this non-lyrical music) utter- that underscores descriptions l
both vocally and visually, as he pushes ances.
fifty, but when he kicks loose he's The League is the scholar's
ageless. "I'm Back! I'm Back! I'm Then the rapid-fire delivery of the The sesquipedalic elite,
Back! I'm Back!" he asserted near the stalwart white-tuxedo'ed announcer As well as for those
beginning of last Tuesday's performan- pierced the stale air like an M-16. Of unadorned prose,
ce, pausing for a hot half-step in bet- "Ladies and Gentlemen here he is- Who, nonetheless, know w
ween each funky declamation, only to JAMES BROWN!" From the start
keep returning to the microphone, as if Brown cuts an imposing, all-
driven by some deep compulsion. It's commanding figure on stage, holding
this unseen power that fuels the her- himself with the threatening, confident Ti lVIch0ia
culean intensity of Brown's delivery control of an ex-boxer. "It's too funky in
and turns the hokum and hoopla of his here, I said it's too funky in here," he K Next to HllH Au
shows into a funky communion, a declared in the opener, proceeding to Located ai the hear t of the
universlly irresistable gut-level groove. raise the temperature about thirty t S the heat t of the aXap
A James Brown show aspires to be a degrees.

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retreat, . AFE'TER A HQ L
11:30-1:15
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