James Brown, 1933-2006

“In funk, it's all about the one."

So said an aging R&B musician as we talked music at an outdoor bar in eastern Long Island about 10 summers ago, and suddenly James Brown's music made complete sense to me.

Of course, you'd have to be a eunuch not to know viscerally that the grunting, growling Brown, who died on Christmas Day at 73, was all about sex sex sex. But the idea of his band both arousing and enhancing his supercharged performances with the simple device of exploding each one count was a revelation to me.

Godfather of soul? Not when the music is about the one. In that realm, James Brown was and is the undisputed king of funk.

Brown was also a notorious workaholic. He rehearsed many long hours with the band, fine tuning the interplay of the horns and rhythm section and insisting on strict precision in time. The result is music that unleashes the sweaty power of the male id but with a wicked sense of restraint.

Check out Brown and his band on "Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine," "Make It Funky," "Super Bad," and "Hot Pants." That ain't just sex, that's unrepentant Alpha Male Sex.

God let ye get funky in heaven, James Brown. I can't imagine you ever resting in peace.