Program Description Soul music stretches to create a rock and roll revolution in rhythm and attitude in the '70s. Filmed in new york, san francisco and philadelphia, the program also examines how funky dance hits blazed a musical trail to the disco craze of the late '70s. We were recording at King Records, which happened to be over in Cincinnati, Ohio, which happened to be where James Brown recorded his records. So, that was our opportunity to get on the big stage.
We knew that, so we hung over at King Records every day after school, waiting and watching for anybody. We happened to run into a guy called Charles Spurling, who was an A&R guy. And he liked us, he had heard about us, he wanted to come and hear us. So we invited him down to a club and he came down and checked us out. He said, "Man, you cats have got a whole new energy, you've got the rhythm thing you all got. I want ya'll to be my band over at King Records." So, that started it, we went over to record some stuff at King Records with him.
Once we did that, all the other producers there – Henry Glover, who produced Bill Doggett, Hank Ballard, Arthur Prysock, a whole slew of mugs. He was the first black country & western, soul, gospel, jazz producer, we had a chance to play on all these records before we got with James Brown. So, we got to learn discipline by coming in the studio and vibing, like we did last night. You come in the studio and vibe, because we didn't know what was gonna happen.
All we know is we've got our instruments and if you allow us to play, we're gonna tear this mother up! So, we took that attitude wherever we went. But at the same time, give us a chance and we'll show you. He's eight years older than I am, Catfish Collins. I was just a young, long-haired sucker that looked up to his brother, didn't have a father in the home. You know how young boys look up to their brothers and want to be like them?
That's what really inspired me – him. You didn't get music like you get it today, it was kind of far and in between. First of all, we didn't have a radio. You'd hear music coming from a club or the house of someone who could afford a radio or record player. So, we just had to get music however we could get it or listen to it however we could hear it.
Every now and then, my brother would come and practice at the house, and that's where I witnessed music firsthand and how it affected people. I wanted to be like that, I wanted to be cool like that. Especially the jazz players, they werereally cool. They had such an air about them. Not only my brother, there was this guy called Wilbert Longmire.
He was a jazz player out of Cincinnati, Ohio, he became really big. He was bigger than George Benson. George Benson took what he was doing and just blew it all the way up. But Wilbert was a local guy who could play like that, but never stepped out. We've got a lot of those musicians, who are great at what they do but get distracted by the home life, different things, they'd get a little distracted and so you don't step out. So, he didn't step out and George Benson stepped out and just smashed.
We were a local band that decided to step out and the way I got to be with my brother was I had to prove to him that I was worthy. You know, because big brothers are just, "Ah no, you get out of here." I was young. I was nine, I started messing around with the guitar when I was nine years old, and I started sneaking my brother's guitar when he was on his paper route.
So, while he was gone, I'd get my brother's guitar out the closet, but the deep thing unbeknown to me was, he knew how he had his guitar packed. Any little move he'd know someone had been messing with his guitar. You don't funk with nobody's funk. He didn't want to have me around, but the band that he always rehearsed with loved to have me around because I was always excited to watch them play. I just wanted to watch rehearsal.
My brother didn't like when I was around until one day he needed a bass player. Of course, I didn't have a bass. But I explained to him that if he got me four bass strings that I would put the bass strings on this guitar and I would be the bass player for that night.
That was the night that started everything. The thing that got me wanting to be a musician was when I had to play at King Records and we became studio musicians. We met Gene Redd who was one of the top A&R engineers over there. Henry Glover, who produced all the bluegrass, the country, the R&B, gospel, was producing everything over there. He got us to do all these records.
Out on the road with Hank Ballard was the first hooked-up gig that we did with James Brown. I guess at the time James Brown was trying us. We had no idea he was testing, because maybe later on like, "Yeah, we might be in his band," but we had no idea it was in his mind. But little did we know, he wanted us to be his band. We didn't find that out until we went.
He sent his jet to Cincinnati, Ohio with Bobby Byrd. We went from the limo to the Learjet. Man, explaining that whole story in sentences, you really can't do it. Our biggest one was "Sex Machine." That was the first to get international attention. That was done after we did a gig. Most of the sessions were after a show.
James was always into not letting us have wild fun and hanging out with girls. As you know, you and the fellas, I just don't know about you cats, man. You're young, you want to get out there, drink a little bit, have a bit of this and that. But we were known for that and James wasn't down with that. He knew if we got distracted we were gonna miss some of those hits he was doing. So, what he'd do was take his time, then take us to the studio, and in the studio we'd rehearse or record something.
Bootsy, Catfish, come on up here." Man, when I talk like him, it's… man! He said, "Come on up here." We went up in the bus, sat right behind him and Bobby Byrd, and he wrote the lyrics. Get on up, get on up…" That was our thing, so we had to read his body language.
So, it was like being in Japan and you don't know the language. You have to interpret what he's doing, what he's feeling, what he's saying. " "Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's it, that's it. That's it, son," , and then I'd fall in with the bass thing. "Yeah, Bootsy, Bootsy, Bootsy, you're killing me, you're killing me! " So, we started right there, and we'd take that to the studio.
Once we got to the studio, we had a good vibe of where we were going. That's pretty much the way we would start it up. Some of the times we would go to the studio and we might be rehearsing on something, and James might hear something and go, "Uhh, right there, right there. Just do that." And then that would become a song. That's kind of how we record now.
Of course, we've got all the goodies to help us. But then it was right off the top, and you had to do it until you got it right. It wasn't like you could walk in the studio and bam, there it is.
You might come up with the thang, but you have to make it perfect. We all wanted it that way, too, so that was another good point. You can't control this creative force; nobody can. With all the examples we get, haven't we learned anything yet?
It ain't about controlling nobody. It's about having fun with each other, sharing with each other, and not dictating. "I own you." "No, you don't own me! " That's the crap we've been put on. It's not just musicians and artists, it's the world. But I think musicians and artists can help change that.
That's what I'm looking forward to, is first for us to get that out of our minds. When you're in a studio, it ain't about dominating, unless you're called on. When you're called on to dominate, like we did last night. It's like, "OK, who's gonna step up?
" Everybody started looking around, then Nick said, "OK, I've got this." He stepped up. Because certain times you have a thing and you want it to go a certain way. But as long as you develop the attitude of service, the attitude of, "What can I do for you today? " I walk in the studio and it's, "What do you want me to do? " "Oh man, we want you to just be you." "Well, that don't tell me nothing.
What do you really want me to do? " That to me is where we can grow and be the leaders of tomorrow. Not controllers of them all, but leaders.
And that's what we need out here now and that's why you're all here. It might be under the disguise of music, but at the same time as people, we need to all grow. We've got to continue to do that.
I don't know where all that rap came from, but there it is. "I finally talked my mother into getting me a $29 guitar," Collins recalls. World Wide Funk was recorded at Collins' own Re-Hab Studio in his native Cincinnati, although not all his collaborators showed up at his doorstep. Many sent in their parts remotely, though you could hardly tell. Snoop Dogg makes an assist on "Hi-On-Heels," a smoldering R&B plea for sensuous release that also features singer October London unleashing the power of his considerable charisma.
Even with that much low end being detonated at once, the song bounces along on immaculate grooves, fuzzed-out licks, and a good-natured, round-robin show of solidarity. But to that point, we can't let catastrophe have the last word. You're going to go through things. Bringing it back to house music, house comes from that black music tradition where these people from cast-out communities would come to warehouses to party all night and to let that funk out, right? These are your Black, brown, and a lot of queer communities coming together, and the roots of the Black tradition is letting that suffering speak through your music. And we've seen that throughout history.
With my music and with this label that we're launching, Purple Label Sound, we hope to bring that back in a meaningful way for house music, in a way that makes sense and that's been in the Black tradition for years. An edited version of the song was made into a music video which features cameos by many other Bengals players. It has garnered tremendous local airplay and is viewable on Bengals.com Additionally, Cincinnati Bell is offering "Fear Da Tiger" as a free ringtone for its wireless customers in both polyphonic and MP3 formats. Collins appeared with Little Richard, Bernie Worrell, and other notable musicians as the band playing with Hank Williams, Jr. for the Monday Night Football opening during for the 2006 season. Collins was the only all star to return with Williams for the 2007 season.
There were a lot more instrumentals back then. I heard a guy, Lonnie Mack, I don't know if you ever heard of this guy? Lonnie Mack played guitar and he was like a country-folk-western-funk mesh combo. There was no singing, just him playing guitar, and the style of guitar he played, I just loved it.
My brother loved it, and we played all the Lonnie Mack-type records. Then we had to play all the top stuff on the radio. Later on, we figured out how to play the stuff on the radio, but to us that wasn't fun. For us, what was fun was coming up with stuff that we could play and watch people say, "What the hell is that? " And we got off on that and that kind of lasted on through. In 1990, Collins collaborated with Deee-Lite on their biggest hit "Groove Is in the Heart", and he contributed additional vocals.
Although he also appeared in the music video playing the bass, the bassline in the song is actually a sample of a Herbie Hancock song called "Bring Down the Birds". Bootsy's Rubber Band became the de facto backing musicians for Deee-Lite during a world tour. The Rubber Band also recorded the EP Jungle Bass, their first recording in 11 years. Funk legend Bootsy Collins is back with a new album, called The Power of the One.
