December 31, 2006, 8 p.m. Four more hours, and I will be heralding in a new year with hope, faith, renewal, good cheer and great expectations for the next 365 days. I have resolved to transform my negative behavior into a positive force that will change the world and enrich all of mankind. Believe you me, I have some lofty ideals for a guy who is home alone on New Year's Eve, but it wasn't always like this. As a matter of fact, I took great satisfaction in my own personal record of having worked 15 straight New Year's Eve events. Quite frankly, it was a matter of pride to know that I had a gig on New Year's Eve, since the money was always good and the party always fun, but in 1999 I decided that it was more important to welcome in the New Year with my family than to be out mixing a show and drinking with strangers. Ironically, seven years later, my teenage kids are out at parties, and my wife, who is an OB-GYN, is on call delivering babies, which means that I will be welcoming in the new year with my computer and a cold beer. That said, I probably won't even make it past 11:00, but that's OK, since I now take pride in the fact that I have not taken any New Year's work for the past seven consecutive years. Things change. Speaking of change, the 38th president of the United States, Gerald Ford, passed away in December of last year and received much media attention, as was a president's due, but in my world Mr. Ford's passing was overshadowed by the demise of the first Godfather of Soul, James Brown. I wasn't surprised at Mr. Ford's send-off, as it was befitting of a United States president, but I did find it impressive that, in Harlem, Mr. Brown was drawn up 125th Street by two white horses to lie in state at the Apollo Theatre inside an open top 14-carat gold coffin. He was dressed in a shiny blue suit complemented by silver shoes and, according to CNN, it was his first of three costume changes in as many days, as there was first The Apollo showing, then a private funeral in Augusta, Georgia James Brown Arena.
I saw pictures of the event, and even his hair looked great; the only thing I thought was missing from the production was his cape. You must remember the famous cape that draped the exhausted Mr. Brown's shoulders as, spent from expending so much energy during his show, he fell to his knees trying to exit the stage. Could that really be the end? Was the Ubermensch of Soul finally done? Had he exhausted his last bit of soulful ebullience? Not a chance. With a swoosh of his cape and a quick pirouette, our caped crusader was on his feet giving one last soulful gasp, only to turn and repeat the exhilarating experience two or three times before finally exiting the stage and leaving the audience soulfully super- charged.
In the summer of 1999, the year that I would work my 15th consecutive New Year's Eve event, I received a call from a promoter asking me to produce James Brown in New York at Central Park's Summer Stage. I was on the road at the time, doing monitors for Chaka Khan, and wasn't sure that my schedule would be clear, but as fate would have it, Chaka's road manager informed me that Chaka would be opening for Mr. Brown in Central Park. By mere serendipity, I found myself producing the show and doing monitors for the opening act. I was thrilled.
Chaka had a big band and a fairly extensive rider, but I knew what was needed, and, fortunately, the 10 mixes I used for Chaka would work for Mr. Brown as well. It was scheduled as an afternoon show, so lights were minimal, but I did have to bring in a few mobile dressing rooms and a catering truck for the bands. I made sure the bands had all of the backline gear requested on their riders and meticulously calculated my run of show and labor call. Therefore, when I placed the call to Mr. Brown's tour manager, I was prepared, or so I thought. He didn't seem very concerned about the equipment or run of show, but he was quite anxious to know if I had the hair dryer as requested on the rider. I told him that there would be a hair dryer in the mobile dressing room, but he let me know that, without exception, Mr. Brown would not perform if I did not provide a beauty salon hair dryer. Not a handheld hair dryer, but the type that fits over ones head as they sit in the beauty salon and have their nails done.
I have had to fill many unusual rider requests, and by and large this was not that unusual, except that it was for the Godfather of Soul himself, James Brown. I guess I just never pictured James Brown, before coming out to do a gritty, soulful show, sitting under a hair dryer waiting for his coif to be done; apparently real steps need to be taken to create the magic of show business. Anyway, while it wasn't overly difficult to find the hair dryer, I did learn that this type of equipment was not for rent and it had to be bought. I spoke to a few different beauty suppliers and finally settled on a hair dryer of decent quality and reasonable price. I assumed that Mr. Brown would take the unit with him after the show, and I could only imagine that he had a huge warehouse somewhere in Georgia, in which he stored hundreds, if not thousands, of these dryers. Nevertheless, the tour manager was happy, which meant that Mr. Brown was happy, and therefore I was happy.
My concert with Chaka was great and went off without a hitch. The sound was perfect, and she and her band played a great show and set the stage for the Godfather of Soul. Mr. Brown and his band had all arrived later in the day and hadn't left themselves much time for a sound check, so I had expected a bit of scrambling in monitor world, but this didn't seem to be the case, as nobody onstage seemed to have any regard or care regarding the sound. JB's band came out first and started to vamp; then a magician came out and did some comedy laced magic tricks, followed by some of the backup singers who took the stage and sang for a bit. While all this was going on, I kept thinking that the band was good, but not great, something just wasn't locked in. And then James Brown took the stage. No, it wasn't the young James Brown of the previous three decades, but as soon as he hit his first note, the band tightened up and everything fell into place. His rhythm, phrasing and even his shouts were so in the pocket that the groove was impossible to deny. And to top it off, his hair was perfect.
I had arranged for a limo, and as soon as the show was finished, James Brown walked off the stage directly into the waiting coach and rode off into a soulful sunset. When everyone had left I went into Mr. Brown's mobile dressing room for one last check. There, to my great astonishment, was the hair dryer that had been the focus of my attention for the past six weeks as I had advanced the show, and it was unopened. I couldn't imagine why, after putting up such a fuss, they couldn't even peek inside to make sure that it was what I said it was. I was confused. Did I get the wrong dryer? Was this the show where JB threw all caution to the wind and performed without sitting under the dryer?
The mystery remains to this day, but one thing is very clear from my encounter with James Brown: It should be a prerequisite at any show for the sound to be top notch, no worries, end of story. Image, on the other hand, must be nurtured and cultivated, as it is all held together with gaff tape and hairnets. James Brown was a one-of-a-kind musician, being brilliant and innovative as well as being an inspiration, an influence and an icon, a musician who will be greatly missed. May he and his coif rest in peace. It is now 12:30 AM on January 1, 2007, and I have completed my seventh consecutive year of not gigging on New Year's Eve. More importantly, after 53 years of legendary music, it is also the beginning of the first year of our collective lives without James Brown in the world. R.I.P., JB.
E-mail Baker at blee@fohonline.com.
