Saturday, December 30, 2006

The King Funk is dead, Long live the Funk

He was a young wretched guy born in 33 to pick up the king cotton and to polish black shoes, colored alike his face shouting the oppression of black men "Living in America". James Brown cut his way throughout everything : from jail toward boxing which, as one knows, leads toward black poetry rocking on the scene.

Yes, he sliced and diced his way through Gospel, to r’n’b and turning into Funk which he created fully spranged and armed out of his dancing legs, as the great lesson for Mick Jagger and Michael Jackson. He took his first steps, when he worked daily in the factory, and when he passed through the roof of the ghetto at night. There he held the music as a gun, the juge couldn’t see it.

The year 1964, "Say it Loud (I’m Black and I’m Proud) turns out to be the anthem of the civil rights.Thus, Mister Dynamite became a rich man : he bought a large map for his jet, and a Castle in the pure Disney-Village style, and a radio network, also a restaurant-chain because all babies must eat, and finally an editing house : not to funk foolish per adventure. Nevertheless, his album "Live at Apollo" has been certified for the sale of more than one million of copies, for the first time in the history of rock. One could say : the history of the King James.

He was this king alike "the hardest working man in the showbizz", as he performed 300 shows per year. So an exquisit expression and well-fitted for the Godfather of the Funk. Suddenly, some revolution broke out in the kingdom of Funk, when his old-time musicians quitted him and went to play with George Clinton the Funkadelic. In 1969 (the erotic year as Gainsbourg said), disco served some soup-music at the huge dinner of fashion.

At the same time, James Brown was crowned again by "Look Magazine" : "The most important black man in America" and he was thought geniusly "Our number one black poet". It was the right time, the treasury inspector asked Brown to pay back a quite oblivious debt around 4,5 million dollars. So, James has to sold everything : the jet and network too. But, there is no mistake : James stood steadily on the scene like a funk machine so starrie, for that reason : he has to pay back his debt. Then, he cast his band on a huge run, which turned out alike a triumph curialis in Rome, between Africa and Japon. Meanwhile, he sold one hundred million copies of his album, which isn’t enough.

Of course, Mister Dynamite was a drug and connubial mistreatment addict, as it was in fashion in the eighties. And, at random, James Brown would like to experience some revenge upon a couple of cops hunting nearby. And finally, this epic journey ended alike the best car chase ever seen in "Bullit" the movie. So Brown "fired" a little bit the cops, and the juge asked him, so fermly and so politely, to sign for a show in the jailhouse of the county, for six years. After a couple of year, he was released as a model of citizen behaviour.

So we have to urge a greater intellectual honesty, as we could say that Amrica (who sometimes simply thought in black & white) wanted his head. Although, and since the Blackbeard’s Adventure, Amrica has kept a nostalgic and romantic feeling for the bad boys, who held illegal guns above and under the bullitbelt. Thus, Stallone himself waited for Brown, at the jailhouse door, to get his music for the movie "Rocky IV". Then, succes increased again with "Living in America" and the ultimate version as the cult "Sex Machine".

In 1992, James robbed a Grammy Award, in front of the whole american scene, with rap and hip hop so greatfull for his entire work and masterpieces, of this black volcano upon which the whole planet is dancing endless. And on last monday, a girlfriend of Santa Claus — who was certainly in lack of Sex Machine within her hotty bag — took him on a run away, naturally in his bed. And just before, he exploded three shows with the fire of his 73 candles : the King Funk is dead, Long live the Funk.

Demian West

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