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Tuesday, 09 January 2007 16:16 |
 | | Roland Martin |
CHICAGO ÇƒÓ As "Dreamgirls" opens up in more theaters nationwide, people will be astounded to watch the character played by Eddie Murphy in the visually stunning movie.
As James "Thunder" Early, Murphy does a James Brown imitation, playing a sexy soul singer who refuses to change his singing style to suit the tastes of Curtis Taylor Jr., the black record label owner who is desperate to achieve crossover fame (acceptance by white artists).
Although everyone says "Dreamgirls" isnët based on The Supremes and the founder of Motown, Berry Gordy, anyone familiar with the real-life version will see the parallels ÇƒÓ an ambitious entrepreneur who isnët satisfied singing just to black audiences; he desires the kind of money and fame heaped on the likes of The Beatles, Elvis Presley, the Rolling Stones and other prominent white artists.
There
is one such scene when Early is performing at an all-white club in
Miami. He starts off tame, but then the music infects his physical
being and he beings to gyrate, turning off the crowd, and ticking off
Taylor.
In another
scene, a hit record is co-opted by a vanilla-sounding group, clearly a
rip-off to appeal to white audiences. Such was life during the ǃÚ50s and
ǃÚ60s, when black musical acts would see a song explode on the R&B
charts, but not achieve crossover success. But then when a white artist
(Pat Boone, anyone?) would sing the same song, it would skyrocket.
Thank God James Brown chose not become someone else in order to chase a dollar.
As fans
celebrate his life and legacy after his death on Christmas Day, anyone
who is a music lover can readily identify a James Brown song. Like it
or not, his style is unmistakable, and his ability to "do his thing" is
legendary.
The native of
South Carolina who grew up in Augusta, Ga., made no apologies for who
he was: an artist given the gift of turning any stage into his personal
oasis, no matter who performed in front or behind him.
Many people
would be intimidated by performing in the company of The Beatles or the
Rolling Stones, but for Brown, they were simply young pups who were
trying to figure out the game he had long since mastered. Keith
Richards told one interviewer that the biggest mistake the Stones ever
made was following Brown at the TAMI Show in 1964 (later made into a
movie). Check out the video; youëll see Mick Jagger doing a poor
imitation of Brown by mimicking his dance moves.
Mick shouldnët
have felt too bad. Over the next 42 years, countless artists would try
to "do James Brown," only realizing they might be able to accomplish a
small portion of what made up the entire man.
There is little
doubt that no other artist had more of an impact on music in the past
50 years. Brown was undoubtedly an American original.
What we should
carry away from the thousands of shows he put on in his 73 years is
that you just have to be you. Forget trying to sing like someone else,
imitating another personës dance moves, or trying to dress like them,
walk like them or talk like them. As my wife and I love to tell
friends, "Just do you."
When Brown was
visiting the White House and heads of state from across the world, he
released "Say It Loud (Iëm Black and Iëm Proud)." The defiant song
spoke to the millions of African-Americans who demanded to be treated
like Americans. Negro was out; Black was in, and when Brown proclaimed
it ÇƒÓ that was the end of the conversation. The song became a signature
of the Black Power movement, and even today it resonates among
African-Americans.
Simply put:
James Brown didnët bother with his critics. James Brown did James
Brown. If his white fans didnët like him making a sociopolitical
statement with his music, he didnët care. The words spoke to his
spirit, and he felt it was an important story to tell.
There is no
doubt there will never be another James Brown. Itës just great that
when he could have chosen to go down another path to be more palatable
to the mainstream audience, he stuck to his guns. And thatës why so
many adore him today.
As he said in "Super Bad," he was one "super-bad brother."
ï
Roland S. Martin, editor of The Chicago Defender newspaper, is author of "Speak, Brother! A Black Manës View of America."
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