James Brown didn't just walk into Rodel Studios in July 1971 to record another hit. He went there to dismantle the very idea of what a song was supposed to be. If you listen to the radio today—whether it's Kendrick Lamar or a pop track with a weirdly addictive bassline—you're hearing the ripples of that session. Honestly, Make It Funky is less of a song and more of a manifesto. It’s the moment the "Godfather of Soul" decided that melody was optional, but the groove was mandatory.
He wasn't asking. He was commanding.
The Day the "One" Took Over
Most people think funk is just "dance music." That’s a massive understatement. Before James Brown, most popular music lived on the backbeat—beats 2 and 4. You’ve heard it a million times: clap-clap. But Brown flipped the script. He put all the weight on "The One." The first beat of the measure became a heavy, undeniable anchor.
When the needle drops on Make It Funky, you don't get a polite introduction. You get Bobby Byrd—Brown’s legendary hype man—kicking things off with a spoken intro that feels like a call to prayer for the church of rhythm. "Hey! We're gonna play it! We're gonna play it! Make it funky!"
Then, the band hits.
It’s slow. Much slower than the versions he’d play live later on. But that slowness is where the magic lives. It gives the instruments room to breathe. You have Hearlon "Cheese" Martin and Robert Coleman on guitars, scratching out these tiny, percussive riffs that sound more like drums than strings. Fred Thomas on bass isn't just playing notes; he's carving out a physical space in the room.
Who was in the room?
The personnel on this track reads like a Hall of Fame roster for the J.B.'s:
- James Brown: Lead vocals and a surprisingly gritty electric organ.
- John "Jabo" Starks: The man on the drums. If you want to know why this track stays "in the pocket," it’s Jabo.
- Fred Wesley: Trombone and the uncredited architect of those sharp-as-a-razor horn arrangements.
- St. Clair Pinckney: Tenor sax, providing that deep, soulful growl.
Breaking the Song Structure
One of the weirdest things about Make It Funky—and something that would probably get a songwriter laughed out of a room today—is that it doesn't really have "parts" in the traditional sense. There’s no verse-chorus-verse-bridge. It’s a jam. It’s a 12-minute-and-50-second exploration of a single idea.
Brown was so prolific during this era that Polydor Records couldn't even fit the whole thing on one piece of plastic. They chopped it up.
- Part 1: The radio hit. It reached #1 on the R&B charts and #22 on the Pop charts.
- Part 2: The B-side, where the groove gets even deeper.
- Parts 3 & 4: Released later as "My Part/Make It Funky," eventually finding a home on the Get on the Good Foot album.
It’s basically the first "extended mix" before disco even existed. Brown knew that if the groove was good enough, you didn't need to change the chords. You just needed to keep the fire burning.
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What Most People Get Wrong About the Lyrics
If you try to read the lyrics to Make It Funky like a poem, you’re gonna be disappointed. There isn't a story here. There’s no heartbreak or social commentary (though Brown did plenty of that elsewhere).
The lyrics are rhythmic placeholders.
Brown uses his voice as a drum. He grunts. He shrieks. He shouts out the band members. When he yells "Hit it!" or "Good God!" he isn't just being flamboyant. He's directing the traffic. He’s telling Jabo Starks to lean into the snare. He’s telling Fred Wesley to bring the horns up.
It’s improvisational theater set to a beat that could move a mountain.
Why It Still Matters (The Hip-Hop Connection)
You can’t talk about James Brown without talking about the 1980s. When hip-hop was being born in the Bronx, the DJs weren't looking for the latest pop hits. They were digging through crates for records like Make It Funky.
They wanted the "break."
While "Funky Drummer" is often cited as the most sampled loop in history, Make It Funky is right up there. Everyone from Ice-T to Slum Village has reached back into 1971 to grab a piece of that Rodel Studios session. Why? Because the recording is "dry." There isn't a ton of reverb or echo. The drums are crisp. The bass is distinct. It’s a producer's dream.
Basically, James Brown built the LEGO set that modern producers are still building houses with 50 years later.
The Evolution of the Groove
Brown didn't just leave the song in 1971. He was a businessman. He knew a good brand when he saw one. He remade it in 1992 as "Make It Funky 2000" for his Universal James album. He played it at every live show until the end of his life.
The live versions are a totally different animal. They’re fast—almost frantic. If the 1971 studio version is a slow-cooked brisket, the live versions are a flash-seared steak. Both are incredible, but the studio version is where you can actually hear the mechanics of the funk. You can hear the "clicks" and the "pops" of a band that was so tight they could stop on a dime and give you nine cents change.
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Actionable Insights: How to Actually Listen to the Funk
If you want to truly appreciate what James Brown did, don't just put this on in the background while you're doing dishes. You have to actively listen to the layers.
- Isolate the Bass: Listen to Fred Thomas. Notice how he almost never plays on the same beat as the guitar. They’re "interlocking." It’s like a puzzle.
- Find the "One": Every time a new measure starts, listen for that heavy hit. That’s the anchor. Everything else can be chaotic as long as the "One" is there.
- Check the Compilation: If you can find it, listen to the full 12-minute version on the Make It Funky – The Big Payback: 1971–1975 compilation. It’s a masterclass in endurance.
- Watch the Feet: Look up live footage of Brown performing this in the early 70s. His dancing isn't just "moves." He is physically reacting to the syncopation of the horns.
James Brown’s Make It Funky wasn't just a hit; it was a shift in the tectonic plates of American culture. It moved the center of gravity from the melody to the rhythm, and we’ve never really looked back.
To dive deeper into the technical side of this sound, look for isolated drum tracks of John "Jabo" Starks—it's the best way to understand how a simple 4/4 beat can become legendary.