“I only got a seventh-grade education, but I have a doctorate in funk, and I like to put that to good use.” — James Brown

It’s his birthday today.

I did not fully understand James Brown until I saw The T.A.M.I. Show, and I heard ABOUT The T.A.M.I. Show for years before I could actually SEE it. Such was the Gen-X kid dilemma. During The T.A.M.I. Show he literally destroyed the room. Okay, figuratively, he didn’t tear down the walls, but he DESTROYED the audience. I was an ’80s child and James Brown was everywhere. He had hits. He showed up everywhere. He was ubiquitous. I was a kid so I took him for granted. I had to catch up on him later once I started asking questions about all of these elders still WITH us. (This is one of the perks of growing up when I did: all of these people – or many of them – were still around, and many – like James Brown – were still big stars).

The T.A.M.I. Show should be a whole post in and of itself, but, you know, it’s been written about ad nauseum, there’s a DVD copy, with a great commentary track – it was produced by Steve Binder, who also produced/directed Elvis’ 1968 comeback special. So Binder was a finger-on-the-pulse guy. James Brown was placed second to last on the bill, with the new British invasion band, The Rolling Stones after him. The Stones closed out the show. James Brown took this – rightly – as a huge insult. Nobody FOLLOWED James Brown. The Stones were newbies. He was the ultimate headliner. His live act disintegrated human beings into swirling molecules and he’d been doing so for years. He SLAYED at the Apollo. He was a way bigger star than the Stones. So. He went out there determined to destroy the room and leave nothing left for the Stones. Which is just what happened.

Some years ago, I went on the Film Comment podcast, an episode devoted to concert films, and each guest brought a film they’d like to discuss. I brought The TAMI Show to the table.

This may be one of the best live performances … ever?

James Brown reflected on it later: “I danced so hard that night my manager cried.”

Years later, Brown ran into Steve Binder and embraced him emotionally saying, “Thank you – thank you – for capturing my act for posterity.”

There it is. His Apollo shows were sometimes captured on audio but never video. Now we have it. Now we see why he is James Brown.

You can’t believe the performance can get any bigger, you can’t believe he can commit to it even more … you can’t believe he has more energy … you can’t believe what you are seeing. Because then he digs deep and brings out MORE. He himself looks destroyed at the end.

Keith Richards said that deciding to do The T.A.M.I. Show was the worst career decision the Stones ever made.

The ultimate compliment. Nobody follows James Brown. And if anyone does, they’ll be sorry. Forever.

 
 
Thank you so much for stopping by. If you like what I do, and if you feel inclined to support my work, here’s a link to my Venmo account. And I’ve launched a Substack, Sheila Variations 2.0, if you’d like to subscribe.

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