Five months ago, I had a full-time job at Playboy Magazine and a very pregnant sister-in-law.  Now I’ve got a song on WXRT and a nephew.  And this mustache.

Highlights of the “Want More” tour thus far…

• Seeing old friends in new towns.  I’m probably the best one in the band at keeping in touch with people, and Facebook has only made it easier to do.  You knew some awesome people back in the day, maybe you don’t have as much in common anymore, but it’s good to know where they’re at, and then BOOM, you bring the traveling circus to their town, have some drinks, sleep on their floor, share a bleery-eyed hug in the morning and make plans for next time.
• Meeting my first nephew.
  
  It just happened to work out that the band rolled through San Francisco about a week after Owen James Taylor was born.  He’s my parents’ first grandchild, so everyone’s pretty excited, and my mom was there to help out.  And my super awesome sister-in-law actually had a sub-let apartment in their building for the band to stay in, and found a parking garage a block away that could accommodate our van.  Score.
• Touring Spain and Italy, was amazing, as we’ve discussed in previous blogs.  But after the guys flew home, I met up with my incredibly cool and supportive wife in Belgium, and we took a week to travel to Amsterdam, Antwerp, Ghent, and Brussels.  It was her idea to check out the Red Light District, my idea to rent bikes in Antwerp and drink De Konick beer any chance we had.
• Headlining the Black Cat.  You can see what sort of calamity happened the last time we hit DC, playing the Black Cat Backstage with Poor But Sexy last summer:
  
  But we got to wrap up 2011 touring playing the big room upstairs.  Means a lot to me as a hometown boy.
• Touring the Pacific Northwest.  Driving I-84 from Boise to Portland is one of the most scenic parts of the US that I’ve seen.  And the Triple Door in Seattle was one of the best indoor venues we’ve ever played.  The seated audience made it a little weird, but JC compensated for the lack of dancing by turning up the Vegas banter schtick. We’ll figure out what to do with that live recording soon.  Didn’t hurt that we had Craig Montgomery (former live sound engineer for Nirvana) running the board.
• Eating a late night kebab on a Roman bridge in Zaragoza, Spain.
  

It may be Chicago in January, but I’m still glad to be home – BT

Yesterday we went to Rock Island, IL to record a Daytrotter session. If you are unfamiliar, Daytrotter is an old analog recording studio in near rural Illinois.

In the past few years, they’ve had every band from Deerhunter to Raphael Saadiq stop by to cut short live sessions for their broadcasts.

And they’ve got the best collection of vintage amps and instruments, including an ARP Solina.

We cut a few live versions of “Want More” songs including yet another arrangement of the ever evolving “Baaadnews”.

In the Twin Cities today relaxing at Hard Times Cafe before a show at the Varsity Theater. Last night it was 1 degree up here. That’s right, 1.

It’s cold as hell in the Middle West. But we’re used to it.  Meeting new and old fans in Chicago and St. Louis certainly  has been a highlight of the week and a feverish packed crowd in Detroit made Motown feel like home. But there’s other big news afoot for JCBUS keeping our spirits high on the road.  So Stay tuned.

In the meantime, here’s a taste of the show, courtesy of KDHX:

We are back in the van barreling through Midwestern snowstorms listening to Station to Station on repeat. After two warm-up gigs in Indiana, we are off to our first tour as an opening act. Playing the Pageant in St. Louis tonight and The Vic back home in Chicago tomorrow, supporting JJ Grey and Mofro.

This is a big week for us. It feels like we’re moving down a well worn path at around 85 mph, give or take the attention of state troopers. Playing the Vic is major. We all have well-worn memories of the place: Sonic Youth, Henry Rollins, Paul Simon, The Cramps, Wilco, Gillian Welch, Son Volt, Feist, Dr. Dog, Grizzly Bear, and the fantastic Brew and View (Team America/South Park movie double-feature, anyone? [ed. n0te: FUCK YEAH!]). We’ll also get to share the airwaves with some of those musical heroes now that our friends at WXRT have added us to their regular rotation. Its a good way to start off the New Year. On the move and on the road.

our hero, backstage in Santiago de Compostela

So here are the best things I can remember from the last year:

Best JCBUS Headlining Show of 2011: Hell Dorado, Vitoria-Gasteiz, Spain

It was my first time there, but the rest of the band had stopped by on the last tour of Spain. Hell Dorado is a cool room with a great mural.

now imagine this 10' high and 60' wide

After soundcheck, the owner took us all out for a kickass dinner. When we got back, the venue was packed with a crowd who was ready to dance, sing, and sweat. There’s video of our encore someplace. It was kind of ape-shit. At the merch table after the show, the autograph thing got pretty wild, too (in a PG way). Some girl asked us all to sign her shoes with sharpies. Then we boogied to the DJ with some local girls until the place closed. Bonus points to our road manager Danny for coming back and collecting Billy and me and taking us back to the hotel.

Coolest JCBUS Support Spot of 2011: Robert Plant at Ravinia

We got to play on the same stage as Robert Plant. And we ate in the same little cafeteria backstage. He was a nice dude, and he also used to be in Led Zeppelin.

Most Surprisingly Fun JCBUS Tour Stop of 2011: The Cosmopolitan Hotel, Las Vegas

Needless to say, Vegas is an overwhelming place.  But I’m not a gambler, and I generally don’t like crowded, manic, enclosed spaces.  Flashing things distract me. I’d never been to Las Vegas, and I had never had any intention of going.  And while I will probably never go there as a consumer, I can’t even begin to tell you how cool it was to be there as the entertainment.  Also, this hotel played awesome music in the lobbies and elevators.  They played the kind of stuff I’d be listening to on my iPod if the music in the hotel had sucked. At various points I heard Jamie Lidell, Dirty Projectors, and The Meters (ed. note: and Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings).  Shockingly tasteful.

Classiest JCBUS Backstage Food: Sala Capitol, Santiago de Compostela, Spain

Damn. That was a good spread. 15 kinds of cured pork, veggies, bread, multiple salads, berries, cheeses, spanish potato omelet, nuts, beer, wine, juice. I’m not doing this justice… let me go find the photos.

backstage @ Sala Capitol

And here’s the non-JCBUS 2011 Best:

Most Surprisingly Awesome Live Set I Saw in 2011: TrentemØller at Metro

I was going to catch my buddy’s electronic pop band Xylos during their stop in Chicago a few months ago. I had planned to watch their set and then split, but they played so well I didn’t want to go home. So I hung around for the headlining act. Apparently Trentemoller is mostly known as a producer/DJ in his native Denmark, but him and his band put on a hell of a show. Dark, intense, hypnotic, mostly instrumental electronic rock. Great musicianship without being flashy. They mixed live instruments and canned beats better than almost anyone I’ve ever seen.

Biggest “What the hell is this?” Musical Discovery of 2011: “No Mas” by Javelin

Billy B. and I were sitting in this tobacconist/cafe in Iowa City and the woman behind the counter put this on. Song after song, this album kept me guessing. Was it recent? Was it from some weird band like Can that was just way ahead of its time? Was it a band at all, or a couple of guys with computers, or just one person? Turns out it’s pretty recent, made by some white American guys on Luaka Bop. Maybe some of that information should have disappointed me, but I gave them bonus points for making it all a little mysterious. This is a kick-ass, creative weird-fest, far superior to many others in the same vein.

Song/Album/Band That Everyone Else Knew That I Just Got Around to Loving in 2011: “Someone Great” by LCD Soundsystem

A lot of this band’s other, earlier stuff hasn’t really done it for me. I like good beats, I like cool sounds, and I like some silliness in my dance music, but I felt like the hooks were too few and far between. But with “This Is Happening”, the band’s music suddenly made more sense to me. And this song is the best one on there. Jesus, it’s excellent.

Most Awesome New Solo Album I heard in 2011: “Strange Mercy” by St. Vincent

I almost gave this one to Feist, but St. Vincent edged her out. She just slays me. Beautiful and creepy, clean and dirty, proggy and poppy. Not sure yet if I like it better than her previous one, Actor, but it’s damn, damn good.

Coolest Classic Album That I’d Never Heard Until 2011: “Folk Singer” by Muddy Waters

I’m going to come clean here. With a handful of exceptions, the blues just doesn’t usually move me as much as a lot of the styles that descended from it. The raw emotion of it often loses its punch through the repetition of the form. But I had a near-religious experience when Billy played me “Folk Singer” one night in DC. Just go out and get it!

This year was a fine year in music. I have an unhealthily interest in Tyler the Creator, Iceage, Odd Future (that’s not quite an endorsement, fuck holes!) and with less guilt, Tom Waits’ “Bad As Me”, M83‘s full length, Dum Dum Girls’ “Only in Dreams”, Washed Out, 6 songs off the latest Wilco, and two great one-man acts – Bill Callaghan’s latest might be my candidate for best lyrics (sorry OFWGKTA) And Austin singer-songwriter ((sounder))‘s EP all struck a chord.

Unfortunately, none of these records match the excitement that last year’s LCD Soundsystem “This Is Happening” or Kanye’s “Dark Twisted Beautiful Death Fantasy” sparked in me last year.  The closest candidates would be tUnE-yArDs’ latest, the seriously underrated Strokes summer album, SF’s Weekend, JCBUS van favorite JD McPherson‘s “Signs and Signifiers”, and this new Black Keys which I’m not sure what to do with other than like.  There’s also some nice easy listening like Feist, Florence & the Machine, and perhaps there’s been a Judy Collins reissue, if that’s your thing.

But the best records may have been from the crates for me. With money and uncertainty constantly at hand for the Western World, I have moved just left of the Soul crates this fall and found solace in the slim pickings of the blues and Gospel bins.

Here’s my top five after a week of digging through DC’s record bins and church basements while on a directing gig here in our nation’s Capitol.

1. Bye and Bye – The Davis Sisters

A haunting and sublime plea with the stark accompaniment of organ and piano only. I sprung this record on a very intoxicated version of the band last night, and to my amusement they were as inspired as me.

2. Folk Singer LP- Muddy Waters

Cut during the first lull in Muddy’s great career, this folky record was a departure from his taut electric blues but features the first Chess session by Buddy Guy and ranks among Muddy’s most emotional work.

3. Jonah – Mighty Clouds of Joy

The MP3 of this does not do it justice. The guitars and bass are awesome albeit a bit wild. This sounds like The Impressions returning to the church.

4. Blood of Jesus – The Sensational Nightingales

If you’ve been listing to a lot of horror-core rap, some of these more macabre gospel lyrics might suit you. But it’s really the organ player the Nightingales employ and the strained testament of their voices that get me most.

5. I’m in the Mood – John Lee Hooker

What’s sexier than a double tracked reverb-laden baritone and a single mic’d foot stomp?

In these hard and uncertain times nothing rings more true than honest declarations of unhappiness and other earthly pleas for hope and help.

All shows with JJ Grey & Mofro and Daryl Hance except as noted.

Wed Jan 11 – Bloomington, IN @ The Bishop, w/ Green Room Rockers and the Vallures
Thu Jan 12 – Terre Haute, IN @ The Verve, w/ Green Room Rockers
Fri Jan 13 – St Louis, MO @ The Pageant
Sat Jan 14 – Chicago, IL @ The Vic
Sun Jan 15 – Ferndale, MI @ The Magic Bag
Wed Jan 18 – Minneapolis, MN @ Varsity Theatre
Thu Jan 19 – Milwaukee, WI @ Turner Hall
Fri Jan 20 – Louisville, KY @ Headliners
Sat Jan 21 – Pittsburgh, PA @ Mr. Smalls

1. Geraldo Pino & the Heartbeats – Let Them Talk

I got turned on to this tune when I was playing with Mas Trueno, it became a live staple for them after I left the band. Everything I know about Geraldo, I learned from Funky 16 Corners.

2. Fela in performance (1971)

rare early footage shot by Ginger Baker (!?!!). I first started hearing about Fela Kuti long before the early 00′s afro-beat boom that brought us Antibalas and the Budos Band, he was like this mythical musical legend, but every record store I went to never had any discs in stock. There was always a section card for him, with an empty bin. But once the labels starting re-issuing his classic 70′s records, there was no shortage of this intoxicating Afro Funk, all drums and horns and endless repetition.

3. Tony Allen Unlimited Project – Let the Drums Play

Tony Allen makes it look easy. He was Fela’s drummer and the only one in the band who got to write his own parts.

4. Segun Bucknor & His Revolution – La la la

NOMO covered this jam on their first album (wish I could find a link for it or Ypsilanti Records), with the amazing Jamie Register singing lead. It’s an unstoppable groove with a stupid simple bass line. Don’t know much about Segun Bucknor, but was happy to get his album from Vampisoul the last time we were in Madrid.

5. Ebo Taylor – Heaven

Ebo Taylor proves there’s more to #afrobeattuesday than Fela

6. Ginger Baker jams with Afro-Rock artistes

Ginger Baker had some heavy friends in the early 70′s (and some killer grass from the looks of it), after he split Cream and opened a recording studio in Nigeria. sick organ solo!

7. Seun Kuti & Egypt 80 – Live in Dakar

Seun Kuti (son of Fela), Tony Allen, and Manu Dibango for the WIN

Why was I worried?  At some point during the last leg of our tour (it was in Toronto, I think), I developed a little throat tickle that grew in to some overall scratchiness and difficulty swallowing.  We were about to get a couple of days off so I thought that I’d wait it out.  I was otherwise healthy, no cough or runny nose… I figured it was just a bit of vocal overexertion that would be fixed by a few days’ rest.

It wasn’t.

The swallowing difficulty blossomed into outright pain, like I was trying to swallow a tiny porcupine.  I had to swallow in stages, slowing down this, usually reflexive, process to the point where I could feel the individual muscles in my throat working, clenching, pushing -the undulation not unlike a python coaxing a rodent down its gullet.

So we return to the road.  First stop Cincinnati.  We’re back at MOTR Pub and it’s packed.  These people want A SHOW and the opening band, Buckra, got the crowd hot and ready.  Of course my throat is in terrible shape and we put on a fine show, but I feel like I owe Cinci a little extra for putting up with my cracks and yelps during the set, not really dancing (because I needed extra breath support to hit pitches and smooth out the gravelly tone in my compromised state) and declining an encore.  Even with all the resting, saltwater gargling, warming up and down, and all the other emergency [read: standard] vocal care my voice was still all fucked up.  I had none of my top, little of my bottom and the middle sounded like a bad Dr. John impression.

So the next day we drive to St Louis and I’m scowling at …I don’t know…circumstance? For not making me invincible.  It was supposed to be a triple header that day too: a recording session at KDHX (our first STL supporters and the reason that in the past 2 years we’ve played there 7 times), an in-store session at Euclid Records (big ups to Joe and Sandy Schwab who put us up both at their home and in their store) and then the show at Off Broadway.

I couldn’t take it anymore.  Once we arrived at the Schwab house I dropped off the guys and I took the van over to East St. Louis where my friend Chaz told me I could get some help.

“In the Fairmont City part of town, right off 62nd St, there’s a guy”, he says.  “He’s not on the street or anything”, he was in a super-cluttered, yet impeccably organized apartment that smelled like one of the Nag Champa spin-off scents.  “He works by appointment only.  I got you in, you owe me …big”, and then Chaz signed off of Gchat and left me to my fate.

The man himself was almost as tall as me and old man skinny.  He must’ve been in his early seventies but he took good care of himself.  He was black, a little darker than me, with light grey eyes that I could’ve mistaken for cataracts if his gaze weren’t so sharp.  The buzzer said ‘Hodges’ but he told me to call him Mister Obie.   He asked me what was wrong and he cut me off about three words in.  He grabbed my throat, not aggressively but for a hot second I saw my stupidity from the outside: I took off without letting anyone know where I was going, I was on the outskirts of a city I didn’t know, in a stranger’s apartment with his hand around my throat, and I wasn’t [repeat: Wasn’t] getting laid.  I wondered briefly if I could take the old feller should some danger-shit suddenly pop off, and realized I may as well relax because if it came down to that I wouldn’t stand a chance; this man was a practitioner.

All that flashed through my mind in a second, then I realized that he wasn’t choking me but massaging, almost like a doctor checking for swollen lymph nodes, albeit aggressively.  He was staring at the wall just above my head and whistling through his teeth as he pressed and squeezed and then suddenly his finger was in my mouth, swabbing the back of my throat.  It happened so quickly I didn’t even taste it until he was inspecting my sputum between his thumb and forefinger.  It seemed that he had arrived at a diagnosis.

He lit one of the apartment’s myriad candles and stuck a penknife in the flame.  I was instantly visibly nervous and Mister Obie saw this and chuckled and told me that he never killed anybody he didn’t mean to, and as weird as the ENTIRE situation was, I relaxed some.  I had come this far and if this was the end dictated for me; at least it wasn’t dull.  Mister Obie came over to me with the sterilized knife and asked me if I wanted to start with the cutting or the scraping.  I chose the cutting and he grabbed a small plastic bowl that looked like it was a cereal box top mail-in prize.  There were worn Disney characters on it; I think it was a Goof Troop promotion and sized perfectly to hold a child’s serving of breakfast sugar.  Looking directly into my eyes, he grabbed my hand and squeezed in an almost-handshake before flipping it over and flicking the knife across the surface.  A moment later I felt a burning welling up along the line the knife made.  I looked down just in time to see first blood coming up through the perfect incision he had made there.  That pen knife was scalpel-sharp and the stinging burn of such a deep cut was radiating both ways now: buzzing out through the wound and alternately sinking into the bones of my hand and wrist as a dull, pulsing ache.  He gently turned my hand palm-up and let my blood drip into the translucent bowl, transforming the nineties-irreverent, saccharine characters that decorated the dish into Disney devils, goofily grinning murderers skipping and playing in the blood of their latest kill.

Mister Obie reached behind himself without looking and grabbed a linen strip from a fully dressed side-table that I hadn’t noticed before.  It was laden with bandages, cotton balls and swabs, bottles of varied antiseptics…  I guess bloodletting was a regular part of his routine, and for some reason this calmed me further.  Next was the scraping; he told me to open wide and stick out my tongue, then drew the flat of the blade down the right side -stripping off a piece that, once in the bowl, looked like a finely shaved piece of ginger.  Finally he told me to dig deep and hock a loogie into the bowl.  I did and he announced that the “tough stuff” was over.

He instructed me to cup my hands, like a supplicant, and placed the bowl into them.  Then he grabbed my wrists and told me sternly to focus on the bowl, and to not drop it -no matter what.  He said that I was “gonna be a conduit” and that I’d “feel a lot of weird stuff, but don’t stop focusing on the bowl and don’t try and grab onto any of the thoughts or images going through your mind while it’s happening.  You’re just a waterspout connectin’ me to the bits of you here in this bowl.”  I said I understood and he blew out a deep breath and began.

It felt like a breeze was picking up in the room but there was no wind.  Gooseflesh ran up my arms, across my shoulders and down my back.  I felt a tingling in all of my chakra areas as they suddenly snapped into alignment like a collapsible tent-pole.  The bowl was getting hot in my hands and there were tiny bubbles forming in the blood.  His hands twitched on my wrists, silently telling me to focus -which I accomplished, surprisingly, by letting my eyes un-focus, blurring the scene before me to pseudo-inessence.  I could feel what I could only describe as waves of energy coming from his hands, reinforcing the gooseflesh dancing across my whole body with each pulse.

He took his hand off my right wrist and my vision reflexively responded by honing in on it sharply.  His eyes were closed but nonetheless he put his fingers directly onto the sliver of my tongue that lay in the bowl.  There were tiny bubbles like menacing little eyes that churned across the surface of the blood all the way to the edges of the bowl.  He plucked out the piece of flesh and his eyes snapped open suddenly.  He was staring at me and through me at the same time.  I realized that he was looking into my eyes, but seeing into my mind.  Holding the scrap above the bowl he spoke a word: Burn; and suddenly the chilly gooseflesh became a heat prickle.  Fire erupted in my thoughts and simultaneously the piece of tongue burst into flame.  He held onto it for a moment, feeling no fire, and then dropped it back into the bowl.  The piece hissed and he quickly covered the bowl with his free hand.

We were still then.  I could feel the pulsing energy from him and I would’ve sworn I could feel something moving around in the bowl now.  The motion was sporadic and never strong enough for me to be sure, but the image that sprang to mind was of a tadpole splashing in muddy shallows it’d soon outgrow.   After about a minute he nodded and slowly slid his hand off the bowl.  The liquid was still.  Atop it was a dense smoke that sat on the surface like a heavy mist.  He let go my other wrist and told me to breathe it.  The moment that he broke contact with me I felt the tingle disappear like he was turning off an old television.  There was a dwindling afterimage of the energy that was running through my body, then nothing.

I lifted the bowl to my face and inhaled deeply, the smoke smelled like burnt copper, but left an aftertaste like mint and orange peels.  As I lowered the bowl he reached in and once again plucked out the bit of tongue and tossed it back over his shoulder.  It landed on the linoleum floor of his kitchen with a tiny, almost comical splat.  It seemed to twitch a bit, almost like it was trying to flip onto its other side.  Then, out of nowhere, a tiny yellow cat leapt across the doorway to the kitchen, deftly scooping up the bloody chunk and bounding out of frame to the other side of the kitchen.  I opened my mouth to remark on this and Mister Obie hushed me as he dabbed his fingers back and forth in the blood like a grillmaster sopping up barbeque sauce onto his grilling’ brush.  He traced some shapes on my throat, it tickled a bit, and then he told me I could wash it off once it had dried.  I was also instructed to not speak for at least an hour, then he bundled me out the door.

My mind was racing, the dreamlike-haze brought on by his apartment fading from my mind leaving me wondering what had really just happened, if it would work, and if I had to pay him somehow.  His last instruction proved incredibly difficult once I got back out to the van and turned on my phone to see that I’d missed several calls from Ben and Kev.  I started driving and the phone rang.  Ben.  I just let it ring, call after call, wishing the whole way back I could answer it and allay their worries.

I got back to the Schwabs’ neighborhood and parked about a block away to wait out the rest of the hour.  There was no way I could go back to them crusted in dried blood and pantomiming my excuse for hijacking the van and not answering the phone.  So I waited.

————-

The show at Off Broadway went so well that I felt a bit sheepish for canceling the radio session and in-store earlier in the day.  As I stepped offstage I noticed Mister Obie by the merch table, I briefly thought of avoiding him.  Why? I couldn’t say.  But despite the fact that he was turned away from me when I noticed him, I could feel that he knew that I knew that he wanted to speak with me.  I cut through the crowd, distractedly glad-handing my way across the room until I got to the skinny old man in the back corner.  I raised my hand to tap him on the shoulder but before I could touch him he straightened and turned toward me in one fluid motion.  My mouth was open -a withered greeting peering out from the back of my throat, having fled from this new, severe demeanor.  He gently shut my gaping mouth, lifting my chin ’til my teeth clicked together.  Then he spoke.

“Now that you can speak again, we should discuss payment.”

- JB

August 24, 2011 – All JB, All the Time

1. Marva Whitney – What Do I Have To Do To Prove My Love To You

Marva Whitney is my favorite of the JB’s funky divas, her voice is so freaking raw.  Friends of mine used to cover this tune back in college, and the relentless propulsion of the bass line (played by Sweet Charles Sherrell) definitely inspired “Baaadnews”.

2. JAMES BROWN Talking Loud & Saying Nothing (original rock version)

James Brown’s Funky People vol. ONE & TWO are amazing compilations of classic funk cuts produced by JB that let the sidemen like Bobby Byrd, Maceo Parker, Vicki Anderson, and Fred Wesley take the spotlight. They were released at the height of JB sampling mania during the Golden Age of Hip Hop, so people were pleasantly surprised when Vol. THREE dropped 15 years later. And it’s not just some bottom-of-the-barrel scraping bullshit either, as this “Alternate Rock Version” of Talkin’ Loud proves. Back in the late ’90′s, Harvard University’s WHRB spun an all-day Orgy of the complete People Records discography, and I was able to tape about 6 hours worth off the air, but definitely didn’t have this one.

3. Bobby Byrd – I Know You Got Soul

The guy yelling “Get on up!” during “Sex Machine”? that’s Bobby freakin’ Byrd. The Famous Flames were actually his group and he did James a favor by letting him join. Damn.

4. James Brown ~ Olympia, Paris 1971

JB w/ Bobby Byrd, Fred Wesley, and a teenage Bootsy Collins on bass & afro. Holy shit, this is the holy grail of live funk. The show came out on CD as “Love Power Peace” in 1992, and I’ve had a bootleg DVD for years, but someone must have the pristine footage out there somewhere.

5. Michael Jackson, Prince & James Brown

Pretty much the most jaw dropping video on YouTube, I try to share it with as many people as possible. It’s the James Brown show, and he invites Michael Jackson up on stage (right at the beginning of the Thriller era). MJ then whispers in JB’s ear that Prince is in the house. Calamity ensues. Amazing how filthy Prince can be without actually saying anything. And then make a stellar exit from the stage.

6. The JB’s-The Grunt

@johnclavis said: This track must annoy musicians — they’d say something like, “Hey, guys, let’s record the funkiest track EVER!”, and their bandmates would reply, “What about the J.B.’s “Grunt”?” And they’d be like, “Oh, yeah, forgot about that. Guess we’ll have to do something else…”

This is an instramental version of the Isley Brothers “Keep On Doin” from their 1970 album “Get Into Something”. James remixed it a bit and put extra STANK on it.

followup to last week’s #bombsquadtuesday, “Night of the Living Baseheads”

7. Bobby Byrd – Hot Pants (I’m Coming, I’m Coming)

following up #madchestermonday, the Stone Roses used this break at least twice

8. JAMES BROWN Hollywood Palace 1968