On a recent road trip through the Deep South, I made a pilgrimage to several sacred shrines of American music, including obligatory stops in Memphis at the garish Graceland and unassuming Sun Studios. But the highlight of the tour had to be that cityâs Stax Museum of American Soul Music (ânothing against the Louvre, but you canât dance to Da Vinciâ). Housed in a re-creation of the original Stax Records, the museum mainly consists of aisles of glass cases, in which sit instruments, costumes, and other memorabilia from artists like Booker T. and the MGs, Sam & Dave, The Staples Singers, and Isaac Hayes. One particular relic caught my attention for its radiating aura of authenticityâa battered first pressing of James Brownâs 1956 âPlease, Please, Please,â the song that built the house of Brown and his backing singer/dancers the Famous Flames—a song, wrote Philip Gourevich, that âdoesnât tell a story so much as express a condition.â
âPlease, Please, Pleaseâ was not a Stax release, but the museum rightly claims it as a seminal âprecursor to soul.â Brown bequeathed to sixties soul much more than his over-the-top impassioned deliveryâhe brought to increasingly kinetic R&B music a theatricality and showmanship that dozens of artists would strive to emulate. But no group could work a stage like Brown and his band, with their machine-like precision breakdowns and elaborate dance routines. And while it seems like Chadwick Boseman does an admirable impression of the Godfather of Soul in the upcoming Brown biopic Get on Up, thereâs no substitute for the real thing, nor will there ever be another. By 1964, Brown and the Flames had worked for almost a decade to hone their act, especially the centerpiece rendition of âPlease, Please, Please.â And in the â64 performance above at the T.A.M.I.âor Teenage Awards Music Internationalâat the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium, you can see Brown and crew for the first time do the so-called âcape actâ (around 7:50) during that signature number. David Remnick describes it in his New Yorker piece on this performance:
â¦in the midst of his own self-induced hysteria, his fit of longing and desire, he drops to his knees, seemingly unable to go on any longer, at the point of collapse, or worse. His backup singers, the Flames, move near, tenderly, as if to revive him, and an offstage aide, Danny Ray, comes on, draping a cape over the great manâs shoulders. Over and over again, Brown recovers, throws off the cape, defies his near-death collapse, goes back into the song, back into the dance, this absolute abandonment to passion.
Itâs an act Brown distilled from both charismatic Baptist church services and professional wrestling, and itâs a hell of a performance, one he pulled out, with all his other shimmying, strutting, moonwalking stops, in order to best the nightâs lineup of big names like the Beach Boys, Chuck Berry, Marvin Gaye, the Supremes, and the Rolling Stones, who had the misfortune of having to follow Brownâs act. Keith Richards later called it the biggest mistake of their career. You can see why. Though the Stones put on a decent show (below), next to Brown and the Flames, writes Remnick, they looked bland and compromisingââUnitarians making nice.â
via The New Yorker
Related Content:
Every Appearance James Brown Ever Made On Soul Train. So Nice, So Nice!
James Brown Saves Boston After MLKâs Assassination, Calls for Peace Across America (1968)
James Brown Gives You Dancing Lessons: From The Funky Chicken to The Boogaloo
Josh Jones is a writer and musician based in Durham, NC. Follow him at @jdmagness
James Brown Blows Away the Rolling Stones in 18 Electric Minutes (1964) is a post from: Open Culture. Follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and Google Plus, or get our Daily Email. And don’t miss our big collections of Free Online Courses, Free Online Movies, Free eBooks, Free Audio Books, Free Foreign Language Lessons, and MOOCs.
The post James Brown Blows Away the Rolling Stones in 18 Electric Minutes (1964) appeared first on Open Culture.
James Brown Blows Away the Rolling Stones in 18 Electric Minutes (1964)
No comments:
Post a Comment