To continue and show proof of my explanation of the homage(s) Janelle Monae did for James Brown and Michael Jackson I offer these videos.
The first one takes place in 1964 at the T.A.M.I. show where you see the first desegregated audience watching "Mr. Showbiz" himself, James Brown, doing the "tightrope" dance that is being emulated by Janelle. The irony about this is that the "GODFATHER of SOUL" does this amazing performance BEFORE the introduction of the Rolling Stones, the British Blues Band (their name is taken from a Robert Johnson song). Mick sees this performance (and hears the undulating screams from the audience and freaks out. He knows that their band can never top this so he tries his best to imitate "Mr. Excitement!". He, of course, fails miserably yet makes his feeble attempt a staple for the rest of his career. This lasts up to today.
Some Excerpts from 'Jagger'
The T.A.M.I. Show was all about showcasing the new.
James Brown arrived at the Civic Center and was promptly informed of what the Stones already knew. “I remember James coming up and saying ‘Of course I’m the last act on the bill, right?’ ” says Steve Binder, director of the T. A. M. I. Show. “I told him, ‘No, actually you’re going to be followed by the Rolling Stones.’ James looked at me and smiled and said, ‘Nobody follows James Brown.’ ”
“Ladies and gentleman, James Brown,” Dean announced. Backstage the five Rolling Stones, weary from endless touring and miles from home, looked like criminals about to face a firing squad. They exchanged a few wordless glances, a second language at this point, then decided to boldly face it, to walk as a group to the wings and face their fate.
“We did a bunch of songs, nonstop, like always. . . “ Brown writes in his memoir, James Brown, The Godfather of Soul. I don’t think I never danced so hard in my life, and I don’t think they’d ever seen a man move that fast.” Brown knew the Stones were watching from the wings. Everyone was watching; all eyes were on him. Sliding in his patent leather shoes, putting his pinkie-ringed hand on his hip, he dropped to his knees in his checked jacket and vest, then jerked up again like a piston.
But he wasn’t finished. He got up and did his “good foot” dance back to the mic, then dramatically collapsed to the floor again, a signal for his band to pick him up and try to help him offstage. It was all a ruse, of course. Defiantly, he ran back to the mic, milking the crowd, which screamed even louder. The band picked him up again. And again he ran back to the mic. “When I was through, the audience kept calling me back for encores. It was one of those performances when you don’t even know how you’re doing it,” Brown writes.
A mere fifteen feet away, Mick Jagger was as covered in sweat as Brown was, and he hadn’t even begun to sing. He felt light in his shoes; dizzy. “The Stones [were] standing between all those guards,” Brown remembered. “Every time they got ready to start out on the stage, the audience called us back. They couldn’t get on— it was too hot out there.”
“We did a bunch of songs, nonstop, like always. . . “ Brown writes in his memoir, James Brown, The Godfather of Soul. I don’t think I never danced so hard in my life, and I don’t think they’d ever seen a man move that fast.” Brown knew the Stones were watching from the wings. Everyone was watching; all eyes were on him. Sliding in his patent leather shoes, putting his pinkie-ringed hand on his hip, he dropped to his knees in his checked jacket and vest, then jerked up again like a piston.
But he wasn’t finished. He got up and did his “good foot” dance back to the mic, then dramatically collapsed to the floor again, a signal for his band to pick him up and try to help him offstage. It was all a ruse, of course. Defiantly, he ran back to the mic, milking the crowd, which screamed even louder. The band picked him up again. And again he ran back to the mic. “When I was through, the audience kept calling me back for encores. It was one of those performances when you don’t even know how you’re doing it,” Brown writes.
A mere fifteen feet away, Mick Jagger was as covered in sweat as Brown was, and he hadn’t even begun to sing. He felt light in his shoes; dizzy. “The Stones [were] standing between all those guards,” Brown remembered. “Every time they got ready to start out on the stage, the audience called us back. They couldn’t get on— it was too hot out there.”
Jan and Dean returned to the stage to welcome “those fine fellows from England, the Rolling Stones.” Looking nervous but resigned, the brave young men from South London assumed their headlining position. And they pulled it off. The Rolling Stones did the impossible and made the viewer forget Brown’s epochal spot. They were something so different, ironically derived from the same beat, but after a half dozen TV appearances they were adept at presenting a new breed of energy — and of making a viewer believe that they were watching some sexed-up space invasion. That’s how they matched James Brown. Surprise and sex. The Stones were like nothing anybody had ever seen before: male and female, familiar and strange, coming right at the viewer, leaving them no time to think, only to surrender themselves. Patti Smith, in the pages of Creem magazine (where she was a contributor), recalled the sensation years later:
“The singer was showing his second layer of skin and more than a little milk,” she wrote. “Five white boys sexy as any spade . . . Blind love for my father was the first thing I sacrificed to Mick Jagger . . . masculinity was no longer measured on the football field.” At the time, Smith was a closet rebel teen from Jersey, a good Catholic girl. The T.A.M.I. Show performance presented options.
They started right into “Around and Around” with skinny Mick dressed in a sweater and clapping along to the beat at the mic. He looked much amused at all the sexed-up chaos; soon that old smirk returned to his lips as if to say, “This wasn’t so bad after all.” They played “It’s All Over Now.” Mick, finally having fun, changed a lyric from “She hurt my eyes open” to “She hurt my nose open.” He repeatedly jumped into the air as if trying to use the stand as a pole-vaulting stick. He danced a bit more than usual; you can see him experimenting with his own body. Here, perhaps, the Mick Jagger of ’69 was truly born — out of necessity and, in a way, an innate sense of morality. He kept up with James Brown by becoming . . . James Brown. It wasn’t perfect. “Mick cloned himself into James — with all the dancing and jumping,” Binder agrees . For the finale, the Stones launched into “It’s Alright,” an under-rehearsed Bo Diddley beat, with Mick shaking a pair of maracas as the rest of the cast of the T.A.M.I. Show and the dancers joined them onstage for a singalong, everyone together, black, white, young, slightly less young, a symbol for the times. James Brown was again conspicuously absent, but later in his memoir, the Godfather of Soul would be magnanimous, offering words of brotherhood to the Stones and confessing that when he saw them, he “saw the future.”
The "tightrope" mentioned is the "goodfoot" by the Godfather.
Check out the youtube pages to see what I am talking about.
James Brown's performance on the T.A.M.I. show (1964):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_jqhXNF98A
Mick Jagger's (i.e. "the Rolling Stones) "cloning" performance of James Brown on the T.A.M.I. show after "The Hardest Working MAN in Show Business" had finished. (Observe the attempts of perfecting the dance moves):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDrIE9m7f74
Also, I got the idea of homage from Jonelle Monae's performance on "Dave Letterman". Here is the clip (If you notice she does EXACTLY what James Brown does in his T.A.M.I. show performance, including the breakdowns, she also wears his typhoon/pompador hairdoo):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzZnao2fbRQ
In a return to "The Late Show with Dave Letterman" performing another song (Dance Apocalyptic), she is called by Dave Letterman "The Hardest Working WOMAN in Show Business".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHIDV956yjI
As for Michael Jackson, you only have to look so far as his "Off the Wall" or "Thriller" videos to see the comparison.
Motown 25 performance featuring the "Moonwalk":
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7XZGJiY2a3o
His attire (emulated by Jonelle Monae):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T88J6IzWAFg
I don't like to be critical but it seems that the analyzing of Ms. Monae's music and choices are simply devoid of the one thing that is blatantly obvious, her ethnicity.
Jonelle is doing double homage by dressing like Michael, yet wearing her hair like Godfather Brown. A truly deft "tightrope" if I ever saw one.
DeCarlo
The first one takes place in 1964 at the T.A.M.I. show where you see the first desegregated audience watching "Mr. Showbiz" himself, James Brown, doing the "tightrope" dance that is being emulated by Janelle. The irony about this is that the "GODFATHER of SOUL" does this amazing performance BEFORE the introduction of the Rolling Stones, the British Blues Band (their name is taken from a Robert Johnson song). Mick sees this performance (and hears the undulating screams from the audience and freaks out. He knows that their band can never top this so he tries his best to imitate "Mr. Excitement!". He, of course, fails miserably yet makes his feeble attempt a staple for the rest of his career. This lasts up to today.
Some Excerpts from 'Jagger'
The T.A.M.I. Show was all about showcasing the new.
James Brown arrived at the Civic Center and was promptly informed of what the Stones already knew. “I remember James coming up and saying ‘Of course I’m the last act on the bill, right?’ ” says Steve Binder, director of the T. A. M. I. Show. “I told him, ‘No, actually you’re going to be followed by the Rolling Stones.’ James looked at me and smiled and said, ‘Nobody follows James Brown.’ ”
“Ladies and gentleman, James Brown,” Dean announced. Backstage the five Rolling Stones, weary from endless touring and miles from home, looked like criminals about to face a firing squad. They exchanged a few wordless glances, a second language at this point, then decided to boldly face it, to walk as a group to the wings and face their fate.
“We did a bunch of songs, nonstop, like always. . . “ Brown writes in his memoir, James Brown, The Godfather of Soul. I don’t think I never danced so hard in my life, and I don’t think they’d ever seen a man move that fast.” Brown knew the Stones were watching from the wings. Everyone was watching; all eyes were on him. Sliding in his patent leather shoes, putting his pinkie-ringed hand on his hip, he dropped to his knees in his checked jacket and vest, then jerked up again like a piston.
But he wasn’t finished. He got up and did his “good foot” dance back to the mic, then dramatically collapsed to the floor again, a signal for his band to pick him up and try to help him offstage. It was all a ruse, of course. Defiantly, he ran back to the mic, milking the crowd, which screamed even louder. The band picked him up again. And again he ran back to the mic. “When I was through, the audience kept calling me back for encores. It was one of those performances when you don’t even know how you’re doing it,” Brown writes.
A mere fifteen feet away, Mick Jagger was as covered in sweat as Brown was, and he hadn’t even begun to sing. He felt light in his shoes; dizzy. “The Stones [were] standing between all those guards,” Brown remembered. “Every time they got ready to start out on the stage, the audience called us back. They couldn’t get on— it was too hot out there.”
“We did a bunch of songs, nonstop, like always. . . “ Brown writes in his memoir, James Brown, The Godfather of Soul. I don’t think I never danced so hard in my life, and I don’t think they’d ever seen a man move that fast.” Brown knew the Stones were watching from the wings. Everyone was watching; all eyes were on him. Sliding in his patent leather shoes, putting his pinkie-ringed hand on his hip, he dropped to his knees in his checked jacket and vest, then jerked up again like a piston.
But he wasn’t finished. He got up and did his “good foot” dance back to the mic, then dramatically collapsed to the floor again, a signal for his band to pick him up and try to help him offstage. It was all a ruse, of course. Defiantly, he ran back to the mic, milking the crowd, which screamed even louder. The band picked him up again. And again he ran back to the mic. “When I was through, the audience kept calling me back for encores. It was one of those performances when you don’t even know how you’re doing it,” Brown writes.
A mere fifteen feet away, Mick Jagger was as covered in sweat as Brown was, and he hadn’t even begun to sing. He felt light in his shoes; dizzy. “The Stones [were] standing between all those guards,” Brown remembered. “Every time they got ready to start out on the stage, the audience called us back. They couldn’t get on— it was too hot out there.”
Jan and Dean returned to the stage to welcome “those fine fellows from England, the Rolling Stones.” Looking nervous but resigned, the brave young men from South London assumed their headlining position. And they pulled it off. The Rolling Stones did the impossible and made the viewer forget Brown’s epochal spot. They were something so different, ironically derived from the same beat, but after a half dozen TV appearances they were adept at presenting a new breed of energy — and of making a viewer believe that they were watching some sexed-up space invasion. That’s how they matched James Brown. Surprise and sex. The Stones were like nothing anybody had ever seen before: male and female, familiar and strange, coming right at the viewer, leaving them no time to think, only to surrender themselves. Patti Smith, in the pages of Creem magazine (where she was a contributor), recalled the sensation years later:
“The singer was showing his second layer of skin and more than a little milk,” she wrote. “Five white boys sexy as any spade . . . Blind love for my father was the first thing I sacrificed to Mick Jagger . . . masculinity was no longer measured on the football field.” At the time, Smith was a closet rebel teen from Jersey, a good Catholic girl. The T.A.M.I. Show performance presented options.
They started right into “Around and Around” with skinny Mick dressed in a sweater and clapping along to the beat at the mic. He looked much amused at all the sexed-up chaos; soon that old smirk returned to his lips as if to say, “This wasn’t so bad after all.” They played “It’s All Over Now.” Mick, finally having fun, changed a lyric from “She hurt my eyes open” to “She hurt my nose open.” He repeatedly jumped into the air as if trying to use the stand as a pole-vaulting stick. He danced a bit more than usual; you can see him experimenting with his own body. Here, perhaps, the Mick Jagger of ’69 was truly born — out of necessity and, in a way, an innate sense of morality. He kept up with James Brown by becoming . . . James Brown. It wasn’t perfect. “Mick cloned himself into James — with all the dancing and jumping,” Binder agrees . For the finale, the Stones launched into “It’s Alright,” an under-rehearsed Bo Diddley beat, with Mick shaking a pair of maracas as the rest of the cast of the T.A.M.I. Show and the dancers joined them onstage for a singalong, everyone together, black, white, young, slightly less young, a symbol for the times. James Brown was again conspicuously absent, but later in his memoir, the Godfather of Soul would be magnanimous, offering words of brotherhood to the Stones and confessing that when he saw them, he “saw the future.”
The "tightrope" mentioned is the "goodfoot" by the Godfather.
Check out the youtube pages to see what I am talking about.
James Brown's performance on the T.A.M.I. show (1964):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_jqhXNF98A
Mick Jagger's (i.e. "the Rolling Stones) "cloning" performance of James Brown on the T.A.M.I. show after "The Hardest Working MAN in Show Business" had finished. (Observe the attempts of perfecting the dance moves):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDrIE9m7f74
Also, I got the idea of homage from Jonelle Monae's performance on "Dave Letterman". Here is the clip (If you notice she does EXACTLY what James Brown does in his T.A.M.I. show performance, including the breakdowns, she also wears his typhoon/pompador hairdoo):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzZnao2fbRQ
In a return to "The Late Show with Dave Letterman" performing another song (Dance Apocalyptic), she is called by Dave Letterman "The Hardest Working WOMAN in Show Business".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHIDV956yjI
As for Michael Jackson, you only have to look so far as his "Off the Wall" or "Thriller" videos to see the comparison.
Motown 25 performance featuring the "Moonwalk":
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7XZGJiY2a3o
His attire (emulated by Jonelle Monae):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T88J6IzWAFg
I don't like to be critical but it seems that the analyzing of Ms. Monae's music and choices are simply devoid of the one thing that is blatantly obvious, her ethnicity.
Jonelle is doing double homage by dressing like Michael, yet wearing her hair like Godfather Brown. A truly deft "tightrope" if I ever saw one.
DeCarlo