Wind Me Up: Savoring Go-Go's Regional Reach by Sheldon Taylor

 

Let’s go back. Way back. Back into time. A sea of young’ns groove to percussive drum sounds that go on forever. Chants and call-and-response pepper the air like gunshots. Rapid-fire handclaps and sexy gyrations keep time to the beat.

 It's a vibe and a syncopated ride that feels instinctively familiar.

In my mind’s eye, I see women in Santeria white and pristine Sunday best catching the spirit in sweaty ciphers and church revivals. Now I’m toiling in southern cotton and tobacco fields where people endure hard times during the day and exhale in steamy juke joints at night. 

The music transports me to a world of lilting tropical rhythms and Trinidadian pan drums, delectable sights of winding beauties in Jamaican dancehalls. I soak up the excitement of packed Bronx park jams or Brooklyn block parties.

 Now I’m in Atlanta or NOLA bouncing to hypnotic beats.

Back to life. Back to reality: it's ‘87 and I’m at the Capital Centre in Landover, Maryland and DC's Celebrity Hall.

Here they do the happy feet and the cabbage patch instead of the mess around or the black bottom from decades gone by. This ain’t Hollywood or Herc but regardless of the name, the cultural connection is still the same.

This ostinato isn’t conjured from the dust of old record breaks and beats. It comes courtesy of live bands that are massive as Duke’s orchestra and tight like a JB rhythm section.

Unknown to boroughs and boundaries way beyond the Beltway---their names ring out with regional respect: Little Benny and The Masters. Rare Essence and EU.

Kids adorned in sneakers, Adidas and Benetton sweatshirts with fly bob hairstyles and flip-top bucket hats have come from all over the DMV to unite as one nation under a groove.

That groove is orchestrated by a man old enough to be their father or grandfather: Chuck Brown. 

Lean and muscular at 51, Chuck's guitar hangs loose and at the ready. His hair is in a shiny Jheri Curl. A fat gold chain is around his neck. His broad smile reveals gold-capped teeth.

New York emcees rhyme. Chuck’s a “talker” with the charisma of a circus ringmaster and the endurance of P-Funk in their 70s live concert heyday. His band weaves past and present together in a tapestry of sound, binding musical styles like roux in a flavorful gumbo. 

Chuck and his singers have Sly Stone and Cynthia Robinson’s high/low back-and-forth ("Dance To The Music" "Stand") down pat. Sparkling blues guitar and Delta harmonica riffs punctuate renditions of Muddy Water’s 'Mannish Boy" and "Hoochie Coochie Man."

There’s interpolations of Duke Ellington’s 1931 "It Don’t Mean A Thing (If Ain’t Got That Swing"). Chuck even sneaks in bits of Rick James ("Loosie’s Rap"), Teddy Pendergrass ("Joy"), Bobby McFerrin ("Don’t’ Worry Be Happy"), and George Michael ("Father Figure").

Reaching into the bag of music from his youth, Chuck pulls out Harry Belafonte’s 1956 “Day-O ("The Banana Boat Song"), James Moody and Eddie Jefferson’s 1952’s “Moody’s Mood For Love” and Louis Jordan’s 1948 "Run Joe."

Sliding in  Duke and The Blazers’ 1969 "Let A Woman Be A Woman, Let A Man Be A Man"---future sample fodder for Stetsasonic’s 1988 "Sally" ("some people/don’t like the way/Sally walks").

Chuck has the audacity of not playing his '79 hit "Bustin Loose" (whose groove bears a close resemblance to Ghanian high-life band CK Mann and The Carousel 7's 1975 "Asafo Beeuson") Leaving it on the proverbial cutting room floor, he recites rhymes from current hot rap records like LL Cool J’s "Bad" and Grandmaster Flash’s "You Know What Time It Is" line-for-line instead.

"Rapper’s Delight" condenses the energy of a park jam into 15 minutes. Chuck takes it further. He packs 40 years of music into a 30-minute set. His encyclopedic musical recall is infinite. It’s a powerful playlist that brings a Top-40 cover band to its knees. 

Behold the power that is Go-Go.