James Brown used them. Hip-hoppers stole from them. Will these women finally get their due? 

By Douglas Wolk 

Pasadena resident Lyn Collins, "The Female Preacher," is probably the most-heard unknown singer in America. If you've listened to any hip-hop in the last 10 years, you've heard her voice sampled over and over, most famously calling out the chorus of Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock's "It Takes Two" -- a sample from her R&B 1971 hit "Think (About It)." Others, notably Vicki Anderson and Marva Whitney, became famous the same way that Collins did, and they all made some of the greatest soul and funk records of the '60s and '70s; today, they're far too little-known beyond the samplers and DJs to whom they're staples. They all had the fortune -- and the misfortune -- to be the women who sang with James Brown. 
In these women's day, Brown's show was a full-fledged revue: Spots by comedians, vocal groups, Brown's backing band playing on its own, and other singers occupied the time before Danny Ray came out to introduce Soul Brother #1 -- "Are you ready for Star Time?" There was usually one featured 

female vocalist who'd come on before Brown and sing a few numbers; she'd also serve as a background singer for him, maybe do a duet or two, maybe cover a then-current pop hit while Brown went backstage to change into another outlandish costume. She'd make records, too -- mostly singles, mostly extraordinary, mostly overshadowed in sales and on the radio by the man who scored over 100 chart singles. Her name would appear as the artist credit; the rest of the label would say "Produced by James Brown," "Arranged by James Brown," "A James Brown Production -- The Sound of Success." You can guess whose name would appear as the writer's credit; the face pictured on the label would be his, too. 

With very few exceptions, the Brown women's songs -- even their hits -- have been out of print for 20 years or more. That's about to change, thanks to a spectacular new double-CD compilation of classic recordings by a dozen of them, James Brown's Original Funky Divas. It's about time the compilation showed up, not just for its musical value but in terms of soul fans' demand for it -- Anderson, Collins, and Whitney have all had bootleg LPs of their recordings circulating in the last few years, and both of Collins's albums were re-released on vinyl last year. For that matter, moments from all three singers' records have been showing up all over the radio. That "it takes two to make a thing go right" chorus aside, a break from "Think (About It)" (Brown gasping "Whoo! Yeah!") is just about the most-sampled beat ever; a riff from Whitney's "Unwind Yourself," looped by DJ Mark the 45 King as "The 900 Number," isn't far behind it (most recently, it's been the source of DJ Kool's "Let Me Clear My Throat"). And Anderson was startled to see her name listed among the most-sampled artists a few years ago -- especially since she claims she's never seen a penny of royalties from her recordings. 
"Even though I'm very happy that someone loves my music enough to do something with it," she says, "more than anything, I would also like to be recognized financially for the work I've done." 
Anderson toured with Brown intermittently from 1965 to 1972 and recorded under multiple names, most curiously Momie-O. ("Actually, everybody calls me Momie-O," she explains.) Then there's Myra Barnes, the name on two of her biggest hits -- the slinky midtempo grooves "The Message from the Soul Sisters" (Li'l Kim samples its "yeah-ah" moan) and "Super Good." It's also the name by which people knew her at Phyllis Wheatley High School, where she started singing in gospel groups. 
"When we recorded," she says, "[producer] Walter Whisenhunt said, 'If you can get that one right there to sing me a blues song, I'll cut this gospel for free.' I'd never sung any rhythm and blues, but I was so fond of Shirley Caesar, who had this gospel song -- 'I never knew joy/Till I met the Lord.' I just changed it to 'I never knew joy/Till I met my man' -- and that was the one that started doing something! But I changed my name for that to Vicki Anderson, because I didn't want the church people to find out." 
And so she remained on record for five years. "Myra Barnes" only appeared when she got her passport in 1970 and Brown found out her real identity. ("He said, 'Oh, you got a beautiful name! Why'd you change your name?' ") Of course, Brown dished out punishments as often as compliments -- everyone's got a story about some outrageous fine levied for a trivial offense or an accident of fate. 

"You couldn't leave anything on the bus," Anderson recalls. "Absolutely nothing. One time, I left my wig on my seat; James went back there, and he told the driver to throw everything on that bus in the garbage. So the driver came to me -- I think the crew had a special Momie-O thing for me -- and he said, 'Momie-O, don't tell Mr. Brown, but he had me put your wig in the trash, but I wouldn't do it -- here it is.' I said, 'He did what?' 
"So, what I did, I put my wig on. James saw me on stage with it, and called me into the dressing room. He said, 'You look good.' I said, 'Thank you.' He said, 'Where did you get that wig from?' I said, 'I don't know where I bought it from.' But I think he knew, This is not the time, because I do not have another singer standing by to take this poor woman's place, and she is definitely going to walk. He never said another word." 
Anderson says she was spared the worst of Brown's hassling tendencies because she was married to his right-hand man Bobby Byrd: "When things got crazy, I could always go home, and we still had a salary that was coming in, so I could always afford to do that." 
The relatively generous salary Brown paid his entourage was the big reason they were willing to go in the studio and not ask questions; many of them have never gotten any royalties for records they made when they were with Brown, and they say that writer's credits tended to mysteriously end up switched to Brown's name, or the name of somebody he owed a favor. (Brown's management company did not return calls for comment.) Collins is more than a little frustrated by not getting paid writer's royalties for songs she says she wrote on her own -- particularly "Think (About It)," which went gold a few years ago in a cover by Patra. But Brown favored singers and musicians who could roll with his whims, and as with nearly everybody who toured with him, she was drafted in and tested to see how well she worked on the fly. 
In 1970, Collins was a show promoter and singer, touring the chitlin circuit and military bases, when she got a call from Brown's production company -- at 3 a.m. -- telling her to be in Macon, Georgia, the next day to record. She cut two songs; the day after that, she was flown to the King Records offices in Cincinnati to sign a contract. A few months later, she was conscripted to go on the road with the band -- just to observe, not to perform. 
"One night, in Houston, out of the blue, he said 'I want you to go on.' From then on, I toured with him, doing other people's songs; then 'Think' came out, went up to #9, stayed on the Billboard R&B charts for 17 weeks, and that was it."

Source : http://www.newtimesla.com/