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CHAPTER 1
ACT ONE
TRIAL BY FUNK
"Welcome, son! We're gonna have a good time tonight!"
James Brown called out to me as he approached from across the stage. I'd known him professionally for a little over a year, but I hadn't seen him for eight months. We were on a multi-level stage in the open-air Earth Theatre in Thessaloniki, Greece. Mr. Brown had arrived several days earlier without his two "go-to" guitarists, prompting him to call me to fill in. Mr. Brown, as he preferred to be called, seemed genuinely glad to see me, and he was his usual smartly dressed, perfectly coifed self. In contrast, I wore faded jeans and a nice set of bloodshot eyes, having just flown halfway 'round the world on a moment's notice. I knew that Mr. Brown did not like jeans, but he diplomatically ignored my appearance. He was aware that I'd just spent the better part of a day flying through multiple time zones with only a change of clothes and a guitar to answer his call — "the call" I'd been working for and waiting for all my life.
"We'll tell you what key we're in," Mr. Brown assured me. "We'll give you a few solos. The guys will show you the stuff. You'll be fine, son. Don't worry about a thing."
Mr. Brown was smiling, clearly at ease, and now he had a guitarist who could deliver the trademark "chank" sound so integral to his funky grooves. Mr. Brown knew I didn't know his whole show. But I'd been on stage with him a half dozen times in the past year or so, and he knew I'd been studying his music. I'd seen several of his shows by then and opened shows for him, backing his protégé and current companion, Tomi Rae Hynie. I'd met most of the band and most of them knew me. They also knew I couldn't be truly familiar with the James Brown show because of how complex and ever-changing it was, even for them. But I was welcome to give it my best, and everyone made me feel like I could pull it off. Mr. Brown radiated so much confidence that I undoubtedly absorbed some. Perhaps he could see that I was a crazy mix of fatigue and nerves. At this point, I knew enough not to ask him what had happened to his two guitarists. Within 24 hours I'd know the story, and over the next seven years I would live my own version of it. But right now I had to get through a sound check. Then I'd clean up, grab a bite to eat, and learn whatever my bandmates could teach me in the two hours remaining before show time. I kept telling myself: I had to survive the night. Who knew where things might lead? As it turned out, I rarely looked back for the next seven years; facing forward took everything I had. Only now, more than 18 years after I joined James Brown onstage in Thessaloniki, does the whirlwind that began that afternoon make sense.
My adventure began in late June 1999. I had been quarreling with my girlfriend at her apartment in Las Vegas, my hometown, when the phone rang. Miss Ware at James Brown Enterprises was on the line. "Can you go to Europe for Mr. Brown?" The tone was like, "Can you do Mr. Brown a favor?" It was the call every musician dreams of. I gave the only answer a sane man would give. "Sure!" Then I added, "W-when?" Miss Ware said, "You fly out tomorrow morning at six a.m." I had a difficult time sleeping that night, but I boarded that plane. I can no longer piece together my route from Las Vegas to Thessaloniki beyond the fact that it included three or four flights and lots of dashing through airports in the course of one very long day. In retrospect, it was like passing through some sort of portal into a new life. My former life faded to sepia tones; my new life most definitely would be in Technicolor. The Thessaloniki gig was 30 June 1999, my first proper gig in James Brown's band. I was 29 years old, a professional guitarist of 10 years standing, and I'd been a few places. Thessaloniki was not one of them.
My arrival in Greece was inauspicious. The organization hadn't sent anyone to meet me. I didn't have much money. I really had no idea where I was going or where the gig would be held. In Greece you can't tell the letters from the numbers. All I had was my Gibson Les Paul guitar, a change of clothes, and stack of plane tickets I'd picked up under my name at McCarran Airport in Vegas. So I called James Brown Enterprises in Augusta, which had just opened for the day, and Miss Ware, who was typically mean as heck, got us on a three-way call with the promoter, who was literally speaking Greek. Somehow, I grasped that I was to take a cab to the Earth Theatre and have the driver take me right up to the stage. James Brown's manager would pay for the cab when I arrived. The cab ride was brief — my driver grasped the urgency of his mission and obliged by speeding through the hills to the gig. "Judge" Alford Bradley, a tall man with a rakish mustache, paid my tormentor. I attempted a beeline for the dressing room to change out of my rumpled jeans — I already knew Mr. Brown's preference for sharp-looking associates — but Judge Bradley said, "Naaaah. They need you up there right now."
Out on stage, scores of musicians, singers, and dancers were arranged for a performance. Indeed, I was the only guitarist. (I learned later that being the "only" this or that carried a certain status within the band.) I already knew most of the band. Robert "Mousey" Thompson, the first chair drummer, was real outgoing and all smiles from ear-to-ear. I made friends with him right away. Mousey had become the band's No. 1 drummer after his predecessor, Arthur Dickson, passed away shortly before I joined. Jerry "Louie" Poindexter played the Hammond B3. He was another really outgoing, crazy person who instantly made an impression on me. I knew Jerry had something special. He could take you to church with his B3. (To this day he calls me "colored boy" and leaves messages on my phone I can't repeat.) These two cats were my solid acquaintances, budding friends, by the time I reached Thessaloniki. Just about everyone in the Soul Generals was easy to get to know and pretty open once we'd had a chance to connect. Even the musicians I didn't know gave me a warm welcome as, suddenly, we were in this thing together. The group included Hollie Farris, trumpeter and band leader — a very physically fit dude — and the nicest guy; he never threw an attitude around. Jimmie Lee Moore was a multi-talented guy who typically played bass but also played a monster guitar. Jimmie was a real showman who could play his instruments every which way and steal the spotlight, a dangerous talent in Mr. Brown's band. It was easy to get to know Erik Hargrove, the No. 2 drummer. Erik was a stand-up guy, even-keeled, outgoing; we quickly became friends. The others I would get to know in the process of gigging across Europe over the next two weeks. As we headed to the dressing rooms after the sound check, the promoter approached Judge and, within earshot of me, said, "Here's the per diem money for the guitarist who just showed up." Bradley pocketed my money right in front of me. "Don't worry, son," he said to me, realizing that I had witnessed his routine, "you're coming out way ahead." That was a famous phrase of his that I love to repeat to this day. In other words, "You're gonna make a lot more money this week than you made last week, so don't worry about the details." Whenever anyone tells you that, they're in your pocketbook. I could see a little greasiness in the organization, but I was too tired to really care, and there was no time to dwell on it.
Had I the time or inclination to grab a newspaper, I could have read the following account of James Brown's arrival in Greece just days earlier. Though I can't vouch for the details, the tone of the article reflects the reverence Mr. Brown could inspire overseas.
"James Brown in Greece for 2 concerts"
ATHENS, 30 JUNE 1999, ATHENS NEWS AGENCY:
Legendary singer James Brown arrived in Athens yesterday for two concerts in Greece, one in Thessaloniki today and one in the Greek capital tomorrow. Mr. Brown [later] gave a press conference.
The 71-year-old [sic – James Brown was 66] funk phenomenon stressed that soul music will continue far after he's gone, "because it comes from the heart and from God."
James Brown arrived in Greece in true rock-star style for his first performances in the country in 12 years, replete with 80 personal suitcases ...
He had to make do, however, with only a simple Rolls Royce for transport, after organizers convinced him it was difficult to find a seven-meter, six-door white limousine.
Dressing rooms for the soul legend and his entourage will provide the requisite 20 full-length mirrors, 10 steam irons, 78 bath sheets, 30 boxes of shampoo and cosmetics and a fully-equipped press office for the exclusive use of James Brown. Also available will be a ping-pong table and, during his stay in Thessaloniki's Hyatt Regency Hotel, he will have the exclusive use of a roulette wheel, housed in a room next to the presidential suite, where he is staying.
On standby during the concerts will be two hairdressers and two mobile hair dryers, as well as oxygen masks and bottles. The fresh juice and soft drinks also on hand will go nowhere near James Brown. His contract stipulates that at least seven bottles of Dom Perignon Champagne be on hand at any one time.
As the gig approached, I thought, "This is going to be deep." Think about it. From the moment I entered that venue to show time was less than four hours. My determination to come through was riddled with jet lag and fear. I'd never played that show before. I didn't even have an outfit. When you play in the Soul Generals backing James Brown, you must look sharp. I had to go through the Soul Generals' rack of tuxedos and find — I hate to say this — a dead guy's suit, one nobody else in the band had claimed as their own. A number of Mr. Brown's sidemen literally left the band and life itself at the same time. I found one about 10 sizes too big and rolled up the sleeves of the jacket until my hands appeared. Just before we went on stage, a few members of the band sat me down and walked me through the show. A few of them remember that moment.
ERIK HARGROVE: We're in the dressing room after sound Check and everyone's trying to go over stuff with Damon so he knows what to do. He's heard the tunes before, but he doesn't know the signals, all the ins and outs. A few people were really trying to give him the best advice on what to play. I took a picture of them. We were sitting in a weird World War Two bunker kinda thing — that was our dressing room.
HOLLIE FARRIS: I didn't have a clue [who would play guitar That night]. Suddenly, here's this white guy with long hair. I said, "Oh, rock 'n roll." [laughs] And I was right! But we sat around — me and the bass player, Fred Thomas, and Robert Thompson, the drummer, and Damon — and said, "Here's the way it goes, here are the keys." And then it was show time. Let's go! We started up and he was in it pretty quick. I thought, "Looks like we'll make it through the show." And we made it just fine. Damon was like a deer caught in the headlights, but he hung in there. And Brown was as happy as he could be. The audience went nuts. That was the thing with Brown. He could pull off a show with an upright bass and a washtub.
JIMMIE LEE MOORE: Now, Damon — that man can play the hell outta that guitar. I don't care what color you are, if you can play, you can play! James Brown had talked to me about him, said he was going to bring Damon on. He said to me, "What do you think, son?" I said, "Man, he can play!" I was the bass player. I played guitar when another guitar player screwed up. I play the guitar, but Damon is a guitar player. There's a difference. I was happy for Damon. He had been working with Tomi Rae [Hynie] in Vegas and all of a sudden he got his break. I liked seeing the man prosper.
Everything happened so fast that night. I remember tuning my guitar and hustling on stage into the lights and a sea of warm applause. The band was arrayed on the stage's multiple levels, with Mousey in the first drum chair on stage left and Erik in the second chair, stage right. Between them, behind a big rack of "toys," sat George "Spike" Nealy on percussion. Fred Thomas and Willie Ray "Bo" Brundidge both played bass; they too were split stage right and left. Louie Poindexter sat at the Hammond B3 organ, stage right. The horn players were in a row, stage left: Hollie Farris and Todd Owens played trumpet and Jeff Watkins, Leroy Harper, and Waldo Weathers played sax. "R.J.," Mr. Brown's "second," always hovered stage left to jump in for Mr. Brown and pick up any slack in the show's energy. The Bitter Sweet singing group lined up stage right, opposite the horn players. On this tour the singers included Martha High, Cynthia Moore, Kelly Jarrell, Amy Christian, and Candice Hurst. They added female harmonies or stepped out as lead vocalists, lending class and sex appeal to the show. Two dancers, Heather Hayes (daughter of Isaac Hayes) and Dara Wells, periodically took the stage to add some heat to the proceedings. James Brown always used to say, "I want something on my stage for everyone." So, apart from his all-male sidemen, he had sexy women of all colors, shapes, and sizes singing and dancing for him.
Hollie Farris led the band through a couple uptempo numbers to warm up the audience for the star's arrival. Then Danny Ray, the emcee, wound up the crowd in his inimitable way by calling out James Brown's best-known hits, while the band responded by quoting the melodies and rattling off the signature riffs. "Aaaaaand nooow, ladies and gentlemen," Danny Ray intoned, "it's Star Time. Star Time! I want everyone here tonight to call the Godfather of Soul himself – Mr. Jaaaaames Brown! Jaaaaames Brown! Jaaaaaaames Brown!" The crowd in Thessaloniki gave it up as a spotlight found Mr. Brown and followed him across the stage to the lead micro- phone. His coif was perfect, his outfit impeccable, his smile dazzling. The effect was electric and the crowd rose to its feet as one. James Brown had that star thing down. It was something to see, especially from the stage. But the razzle dazzle was for the customers. I had to ignore James Brown the star and remain focused on James Brown my boss. So I watched and waited for his signals in a frenetic state of anticipation. I knew the performance would be fast and furious and that our responses would have to be near instantaneous. My memory of the show is a bit sketchy, perhaps understandably, under the circumstances.
A few impressions remain: the audience saw Mr. Brown's entrance before the band did, and you knew he was stepping out because the audience let out a big "Aaaaaahh," and that energy flowed right into the band. He'd make eye contact with a few of us as he made his entrance, like, "What's going on, brother? Let's tear the roof off this place!" (Of course, the fact that we were outdoors made no difference. James Brown would rip the sky off the place if necessary.) That's all James Brown had to do — just walk out onstage — and the atmosphere became charged. I don't know how many shows create that instant energy from one person just stepping onstage. I know that all stars are loved, but James Brown had a force field around him. He really had a power. And the band felt it, too. Our intensity and our focus multiplied when he hit the stage. The Greek audience was freaking out, playing right into his hands. Mr. Brown started moving to the music, feeling for the groove, shuffling his feet to the beat, inviting the audience to do the same by his example. Dancing and grooving with James Brown; that's what the audience came for and why they spent their hard-earned money to be there.
James Brown's sound is known for a funky dominant 7/9 chord, played by his guitarists. He knew I'd know that. During the gig, I'm jamming along on this funk chord and he comes over and he holds up three fingers with one finger from the other hand placed across the three fingers. It looked like an "E" or a convoluted "A." I had no idea what he wanted — I'd never seen that hand signal before. He finally yelled out, "Thirteen!" He wanted me to play the 13 chord form, a nice funky sounding chord that's a variation on the dominant 7/9. I just put my pinky down on the high E string, two frets up from the 7/9 position, and he smiled back. ("The kid's got it!") His smile radiated a dazzling, almost artificial whiteness under the spotlights. Later, I realized that Mr. Brown had had dental implants. Once, when an interviewer told him, "You have amazing teeth!" he responded, "Yes, I bought all of them!" (One thing I learned to love about this man was his quick wit and contagious sense of humor.)
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Working For The Man Playing in The Band"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Damon Wood and Phil Carson.
Excerpted by permission of ECW PRESS.
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