Throughout his over 50-year-long career in music, James Brown has been the subject of countless live photos. But if you should close your eyes and try to picture one of them, chances are they’ll all blend into just one indelible image: lips parted, teeth bared, dramatically coiffured head thrown back, and an almost impossible amount of sweat – the very embodiment of soul. This is the James Brown we knew, from his recorded debut in 1956 to his numerous performances throughout the ’60s, ’70s and into the 21st century. It is, indeed, the only way many of us could ever picture him; so much so that, for this writer at least, the fact that it was heart failure which claimed Brown’s life early this Christmas morning was hardly any surprise. The only shock was that he didn’t go while he was performing in one of his seemingly neverending string of live concerts.
Because if ever there was a musician to live up to his accolades, then “The Hardest Working Man in Show Business” was it. In fact, though all of those frequently-cited titles were in fact bestowed by Brown on himself, it’s a testament to his talent rather than his self-aggrandizing flair that none of them have been met with dispute. “Godfather of Soul?” Yep, he was there, along with fellow progenitors like Ray Charles and Sam Cooke, streamlining the sounds of ’50s gospel and R&B into what is known today as soul music. “Minister of the New New Heavy Super Funk?” Brother James arguably invented that style, too; he laid the groundwork as early as the mid-’60s with hits like “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag” and then continued to trailblaze, opening the door for funk heavweights like Bootsy Collins and Maceo Parker along the way. And as for “Mr. Dynamite” – well, have you heard Live at the Apollo?
All things considered, James Brown was a true musical giant, a unique and hugely influential legend in every sense of the word. It’s no secret that hip-hop in particular owes a huge debt to his catalogue, and his mark can be felt as well in genres from rock to disco, jazz to electronica. Few icons could claim to have survived scandals like Brown has and emerged unscathed – those hair-raising mugshots after a 2004 domestic dispute, as well as a bizarre episode in 1988 in which the singer entered an insurance office next door to his Augusta, GA headquarters, brandishing a firearm and claiming that one of the workers had used his private bathroom, before being chased across state borders by the authorities – and yet here he is, being remembered by everyone from the mainstream press to President George W. Bush, in a manner which few Black musicians, however worthy, get to enjoy.
So though I feel I can speak for everyone at Mainline Magazine when I say that we are very saddened by James Brown’s passing, I also believe that his legacy is better upheld by enjoyment of his music than by mourning of his death. This man boasts a half-century strong catalogue, after all, richer and more bountiful than many artists could ever hope to claim. If you’ve known and loved Mr. Brown’s music (and as far as I’m concerned, the two connections are one and the same), what better time to celebrate it than now? And if you’ve never gotten around to discovering it, well, here are six reasons to start.
Rest in Peace, Brother James. Here’s to keeping the funk alive in the afterlife.
- Zach Hoskins
As my loyal readers have probably already gleaned from my review of the 
Now I know what some of you are thinking. It’s already December 22nd…there are only three days, counting today, to purchase gifts in time for Christmas. Who in their right mind would post a Holiday Gift Guide installment on a day like today?
Now as you might have guessed from 
It’s December 15. Exactly ten more shopping days until Christmas. And right now, you’re sitting at home, thinking, “what can I get the literary nerd in my life?” You know the one: it might be the girl you know with the thick emo specs, mussed up hair, and a brooch of Emily Dickinson sitting on her nightstand. Or it might be the guy you know who gestures a lot, actually knows how to use “surreal” in its correct form, and refuses to date anyone who has ever seen an entire episode of Grey’s Anatomy.
I have a confession to make: I like Christmas music. And not just the standards, either. In fact, while I would hardly say no to a little vintage Bing, Frank, Ella or even Burl in my stocking, my real fascination is with that yuletide scourge of the pop market; the dozens of mostly half-assed holiday records which slip into bargain bins year after year between the months of October and December.
And even when Boots and company aren’t quite capturing the spirit of the season – it’s difficult to imagine the manic jam “Happy Holidaze,” complete with guest appearance by Snoop Dogg, getting much rotation in front of even the most funkified of Christmas trees – Christmas is 4 Ever succeeds in being the best straight-up album Collins has released in years. Not only is the material more consistent than 2002’s B-star studded Play with Bootsy, it just sounds like vintage Bootsy. It has that woozy, anarchic P-Funk clutter of horns, bass, guitars and synths – no doubt due at least in part to the presence of ex-Parliament keyboard legend Bernie Worrell, who rounds out a truly impressive guest list including former J.B.’s leader/trombone player Fred Wesley, ex-Zapp keyboardist Zapp Troutman, former Rubber Band members Joel Johnson and Frankie “Kash” Waddy, ex-Funkadelic guitarist Michael Hampton, and soul institution Bobby Womack, as well as Bootsy’s own brother (and funk heavyweight in his own right) Catfish Collins. And as if all that wasn’t enough, the songs themselves are littered with self-referential quips: a move typical of latter-day Bootsy, which could have been cloying if it wasn’t so goddamn fun to hear “Bootzilla”’s indelible “wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind me up!” in its umpteenth incarnation.
from Amazon
John Lennon was my hero when I was growing up. And mind you, “hero” isn’t a word I use lightly. There have been many icons, musical or otherwise, to whom I have looked up over the years; Bob and Bowie and 
I was strongly attracted to his sense of individualism, that larger than life, acerbic personality that brought about as much chaos in his personal life as it did glorious success (and glorious failure) in his artistic career. This was a guy who didn’t take any bullshit. He did what he wanted, suffered no fools gladly, and when he fell in love with a woman of whom practically no one in his circle approved, he went right ahead and spent the rest of his life writing songs and sharing albums with her. John Lennon was nobody’s puppet. In short, he was the best hero an alienated preteen with pretensions to greatness could ever have asked for.
Yet even today, there’s a special place in my heart for John Lennon; especially around December 8, which I still never fail to remember, though I don’t mark the occasion the way I used to. He and I may have grown apart in some ways, but I haven’t forgotten – how could I, when his influence was so important to me all those years ago? And as much as I’m now finally able to admit that Sometime in New York City was a piece of shit, I am still a John Lennon Fan. Seriously, just try and say something denigrating about Walls and Bridges; I will defend that record to the death.
We all know that the Grammys don’t mean shit. Less than human shit; maybe even bird shit. But Prince fans, now is the time to celebrate, because 
I came to the sudden realization that Michel Gondry is my creative hero of video when I picked up his DVD from the Director’s Series a few years ago. Not only does he know how to create the most bizarrely conceptual music videos and commercials, but his films are equally brilliant. He also knew how to rock out hard with his now-defunct band Oui Oui, and did some killer videos for them, too. So I was pretty interested to hear what he’d whipped up for the soundtrack of his latest film, The Science of Sleep.
from Amazon
When I was a child, I would wake up early every Saturday morning and watch cartoons with my dad. Usually, over huge bowls of Frosted Flakes, we would coast through the adventures of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (which my mother never wanted me to watch, for fear that I would pick up the phrase “Cowabunga!”). And during the commercials, he would tell me about the cartoons of his own youth. In a splash of sepia-tinted nostalgia, my dad would recount the adventures of Space Ghost, Astro Boy, and Birdman. It wasn’t as if he would go into a nerdy series of overblown accounts about each and every episode, but the way he spoke about these cartoons proved how much they meant to him.
While we’re on the subject of gin, though, I should mention that a nice bottle of gin is just about the only thing missing from this DVD’s excellent packaging. Even if you’re not a fan of Harvey Birdman, every pop culture fetishist should consider buying this edition of the series. Packaged like a fake law book (complete with a vintage, silly case), this box set is well worth displaying. But as I said, despite the hilarity and over-the-top zaniness that bursts from the show, watching too many of these fifteen minute episodes may become daunting without some kind of chemical enhancement. That’s why I propose that for all of you over-21-year-olds reading this article, after you buy this box, go to your nearest liquor store and buy a fifth of Beefeater. Every time you’re like, “This is weeeeeeeird!”, take a drink. You won’t regret it.
from Amazon
