Classic Rock  Memoirs

The Real Story Behind The 1982 Come Back of Soul Singer James Brown

In the early 80s, the career of the legendary “Godfather of Soul” James Brown was in the proverbial crapper. The IRS after him like the Hounds of Hell, he was supposedly hooked on Angel Dust. Nobody was booking him. Nobody. James Brown’s revival, coming back from the dead, was thanks to one man – Gary LoConti. He doesn’t get the credit he deserves for this, but trust me – it was Gary LoConti. All Gary. And a stroke of genius concert promotion.

Scour the internet you find one mention, a single blurb on Wikipedia:

“Despite Brown’s declining record sales, promoters Gary LoConti and Jim Rissmiller helped Brown sell out a string of residency shows at the Reseda Country Club in Los Angeles in early 1982. Brown’s compromised commercial standing prevented him from charging a large fee. However, the great success of these shows marked a turning point for Brown’s career, and soon he was back on top in Hollywood.”

A “residency?” It was two shows. And giving Jim Rissmiller any credit whatsoever is a travesty. Rissmiller actually passed on the show. Didn’t like the idea. Declined. So Gary LoConti rented the room, promoted the concert himself.

I was there. I worked those shows. This isn’t a story I looked up, researched. I lived it. James Brown came off to thunderous applause that first night, I was backstage, He threw his arms around me, hugged me. He was a sweaty mess. But that was cool. I happened to be the first person he saw, a six foot white guy in a Country Club tee-shirt. But James was jubilant. Because he knew he was back.

Now I don’t have insight into many historical events, but I did play a small tangential role in the revival of James Brown’s career, so I thought I’d set the story straight.

 

Bachman-Turner Overdrive
The Band That Laffs Last

 

Published October 24, 1974
Zoo World

 

by Jim Esposito

 

Currently Posted on

Rock's Backpages

 

(Click on Photo to Left
to Read Entire Article)

In September, 1974 I flew into San Antonio to meet up with Bachman-Turner Overdrive. I’d met the band before. Earlier that year they’d played at the University of Miami. I’d written a stock formula piece wrapped around an interview with Randy Bachman, with quotes from C.F. Turner and Robbie Bachman.

They were great guys. Canadians. Down to Earth. Randy and Fred were in their 30s, a bit older than most other bands of that era. In addition, BTO were Mormons: did not smoke, drink, do drugs or consort with loose women. A very business-like approach, they attacked the U.S. Music Market through a series of guerilla raids. Booking a string of dates through a region, Bachman-Turner flew in to play the first night. Next morning they’d hop in a rental car, drive to the next. They did 4-5 shows in a row, then flew home to Vancouver, spent a week with wives and families. The week after they’d fly out again, hit a string of dates through the Midwest, California, or the Northeast.

This swing through Texas was a perfect example. They’d played Dallas and Odessa. I met up with them in San Antonio. They had a show in Austin the next night, Houston the night after. The opening act on these gigs was REO Speedwagon.

It was like being on tour with the Marines. I was usually throwing stuff into my suitcase when the hotel room phone rang. Their Manager, Bruce Allen, asking where I was. The car was leaving in five minutes.

Booked at the same hotel I met up with the band and Manager Bruce Allen when they were leaving for the gig. Six of us piled into a car, headed for the San Antonio Municipal Auditorium.

As it happened I’d just read an article in Creem Magazine about Bachman-Turner touring Texas opening for REO Speedwagon. In those days you wrote a story, mailed it to the magazine. It hit the stands 3-4 months later. Riding from the hotel to the show I mentioned how interesting that was...