James Brown
I woke up this Christmas morning to hear CNN report the news of James Brown's death in Atlanta, Georgia at 73. Like my Dad, Brown had checked into the hospital with pneumonia and did not check out. Like Dad, Brown suffered from diabetes and the two conditions working together can lead to sudden congestive heart failure. A quick Google search showed that his illness was expected to be short with his publicist informing the media that Brown would still honor his concert engagement at B.B. King's nightclub in NYC for New Years Eve. It was not to be.
Brown defined my musical tastes from the start. He was a one-of-a-kind package of gospel & church, sex on stage, rage against the man, and good old time rock-and-roll. The black Elvis was James Brown and in the South anything connected to Elvis evokes quasi-religious devotion. For years I've answered the question, "Where were you born?" with a James Brown reference. I say, "Augusta, Georgia," followed by the energized follow-up "I feel good" with my best white girl James Brown imitation. Brown fans know right away that I'm referring to his hit single "I Got You (I Feel Good)" and to his own hometown. Though he was born in Barnwell, South Carolina, Augusta was where Brown moved when he was six years old. It was in Augusta that he developed his musical genius. It was also in Augusta where James Brown became quite familiar with local police. He was far from a perfect man. His all too human shortcomings, including multiple charges of domestic abuse and violence, do not make me want to sanctify him. I'd rather like to think of him as an onstage legend who left us with an incredible bag of tracks, with more than 50 Top 10 R&B hits. More than that though, he made me feel pain and longing in music like few other black performers, Aretha Franklin accepted. And his influence on other performers around the world makes him not only the godfather of soul but an honorific cultural ambassador for American culture.
Brown once said that music is the universal language of communication. His passing makes me believe even more in the classic artists of blues, soul, rock-and-roll, and jazz, to present a picture of America to the world that can better communicate our oneness with others. Enough of this trying to get everyone to agree with all our policies--let's let the man sing his song and oh yeah, let's watch him dance just one last time. Rest in peace, brother James.