James Brown - review by Jenny Grinsted & Jim McEwen

Essential Festival 2000 review

8:30, and the word went round that the godfather of soul was already on stage, over an hour before the time advertised in the programme. (a programme which the organisers continued blithely selling to punters at £3 a time even though almost all the times had subsequently been altered). We ditched the soggy, overpriced nachos and sprinted to the Touch Arena along with a couple of thousand other festival goers. The time change had obviously caught some people unawares. Unlucky for them…more funking room for us.

Being such an iconic figure, James Brown could simply walk on stage, talk about the pros and cons of a proposed european super state for an hour and still get hauled back for more. However, this OAP, dressed in what looked like a red sparkly catsuit emphasising his perfectly formed XL pot belly had obviously eaten his Weetabix for breakfast. (We wouldn't like to say what the white stuff was on top of it).

Supported by his customary light-weight, compact, middle of the road R&B band consisting of two guitarists, three drummers, saxophonist, five-man brass section, organ player, MC in white top and tails and an ever-varying array of nubile backing singers, James Brown played the crowd for all they were worth. After a slightly subdued start culminating in a bizarre one minute silence for the death of one of the dancers' father, they launched straight into Soul Power and Soul Man followed by a crowd-teasing version of It's a Man's World featuring a flawless duet.

There was no stopping them. All the classics came out (Sex Machine, I Feel Good, etc.), James Brown had a quick go on the drums before challenging the saxophonist to play back to him the funkiest scat ever heard in Sussex. The saxophonist, naturally, rose superbly to the occasion, as had the lead guitarist in his earlier bluesy solo. Our smoky, hip-hopping, head-nodding afternoon was blasted away as we lost our cool and twisted with the best of them. James Brown may be collecting his pension, but he's still the hardest working man in showbusiness.