The Godfather is dead. Long live the Godfather.

I heard about this on the radio this morning: James Brown's Body Remains in SC Home. The Godfather of Soul is currently lying under armed guard and surrounded by all his possessions. This is not because he asked for a Pharaoh-style burial, though come to think of it, that would have been fairly appropriate. Instead, his burial has been delayed while his legion of ex-wives, illegitimate children, and other associates fight over his estate. The rest of the world can only watch in disappointment and hope that James has a less eventful afterlife than poor Ted Williams.

In light of all this, shame on me for not doing a tribute to the great James Brown until now, almost three weeks after his death.

Kneel before the awesome power
of James Brown's hair, circa 1961.

In his prime, James Brown was the founding father of Soul. Some credit has to be given to other artists, most notably the great Ray Charles, but James was the only man who could claim the title of Soul Brother Number One. How many other artists have ever deserved to lie in state at the Apollo?

I could go on about James Brown's contributions to music, the role that Say It Loud played in the civil rights movement (not to mention its role in hip-hop), or how every single pop artist of the last 25 years has stolen his dance moves (though to be fair, most of them probably thought they were stealing from Michael Jackson. That guy damn well better show some gratitude.) And of course, the Marmoset would never forgive me if I didn't also mention Brown's vital contributions in the field of Balboan Studies.

But the simple truth is, James Brown will be missed because his music kicked ass. He was called the Hardest Working Man in Showbusiness for a reason, and so on that note I leave you with this: