Brown's musical pulse lives on
Near the end of the new movie musical "Dreamgirls," soul singer James "Thunder" Early, portrayed by Eddie Murphy, is chafing at the walls of the smooth R&B box he's been placed in by his manager. In a transformative number, Early breaks out of his placidity, instructs the band to launch into a sweaty funk groove, and begins barking out a rap that climaxes with him howling, "Jimmy got soul, Jimmy got soul!"
The sequence is just one example of the enduring legacy of R&B and funk pioneer James Brown, who passed away on Christmas day, as "Dreamgirls" opened nationwide.
It's not only Early's pompadour and primal growl. Brown most assiduously had soul, and like Early he couldn't truly be anything other than what he was.
He couldn't be smooth like Smokey or cool like Sam. He was rough and hot by very definition. He may have dabbled in disco or trifled with top 40 -- to little success -- but funk was what was in his astonishingly limber bones. And so it was up to other musicians to tone down gospel-informed grunts and yelps, to write discernible lyrics, to simplify neck-snapping grooves with pop melodies in order to cross over into the mainstream.
Yet an encyclopedia of artists who cribbed from Brown in search of their own musical identities never could have found that confounded bridge if it hadn't been for him. "The Godfather of Soul" was no mere nickname. Brown cast an enormous shadow.
It wasn't just music that he handed down. It was the perfect coif, the natty suits, the spit-shined shoes, the gliding dance moves, the early political consciousness, the tireless showmanship. Each little piece floated into the ether via radio, television, and live performances, alighting on far-flung continents to inform the DNA of a stunning catholicity of artists.
Think of the rubbery bass, jittery guitars, and ecstatic soul underpinnings of Sly and the Family Stone, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Parliament-Funkadelic -- which included several members of Brown's band. Listen to the sanctified shouts and impassioned pleas of Otis Redding and Bobby Womack. Recall the urban rallying cries of Curtis Mayfield and Marvin Gaye. Examine the shuffle-step and glide footwork of Michael Jackson, John Mellencamp, and Tina Turner. Marvel at the fiery stage presences of Jimi Hendrix, Mick Jagger, Prince, and Bruce Springsteen, who even nicked Brown's too-exhausted-to-go-on routine. Try to resist the polyrhythms of the Talking Heads and Fela Kuti. And, of course, listen to almost any song from the hip-hop canon, which essentially uses Brown's catalog as its own version of Genesis, sampling the instrumental "Funky Drummer" alone more than 100 times.
In the work of all of these artists and many, many more -- Lenny Kravitz, Public Enemy, Sinead O'Connor, Marvin Gaye, Led Zeppelin, the J. Geils Band, MC Hammer -- you can feel Brown's pulse beating.
His influence, observed by induction into the inaugural Rock and Roll Hall of Fame class of 1986, also extended beyond the borders of stereo speakers and nightclub stages.
Brown pumped up Muhammad Ali. Kept fans from rioting in Boston after Martin Luther King Jr.'s assassination. Inspired Al Sharpton's hairdo. Gave Apollo Creed succor before he got sucker-punched by Ivan Drago (thereby helping Rocky Balboa beat Drago). Provided Murphy not just his "Dreamgirls" opportunity but one of his best "Saturday Night Live" sketches, as a Speedo-clad Brown scalded by hot tub water. Most important, he encouraged a generation of African-Americans to "say it loud, I'm black and I'm proud!," to embrace their heritage and its contribution, like his own, to the world at large. As the owner of several radio stations, he set an example of black entrepreneurship.
Many things music fans now take for granted -- the rhythmic emphasis on the one and the three that makes it impossible not to dance, frenetic and emotional live performances that feel like church revivals, an attention to musicianship that ensures those revivals are never sloppy -- James Brown had a hand in helping to create.
Sadly, the job of "hardest working man in show business" is now open. It's not likely that anyone will ever fill the perfectly shined, constantly shuffling shoes of James Brown.
Sarah Rodman can be reached at srodman@globe.com. For more on music, visit boston.com/ae/music/blog. 
