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    Concert Drowns Out A.F.C. Halftime Analysis

    As the “NFL on CBS” crew broke down the first half of the game, a performance by the country music singer Walker Hayes was so loud, it made the commentary all but inaudible.At halftime of the A.F.C. championship game on Sunday, Kansas City led the Cincinnati Bengals, 21-10. For the Bengals to win, they would need to make some adjustments.But those hoping to listen to some halftime analysis on the CBS broadcast were unlikely to hear any commentary. It was nearly inaudible.As the “NFL on CBS” crew, made up of James Brown, Boomer Esiason, Phil Simms, Bill Cowher and Nate Burleson, were breaking down the plays of the first half, the country music singer Walker Hayes was performing the halftime show at Arrowhead Stadium.Mr. Hayes’s music was so loud, it all but drowned out the halftime analysis.When Mr. Burleson explained what changes the Bengals would need to make, the music was so loud that his colleague beside him, Mr. Esiason, couldn’t help but laugh.“I have no idea what you just said,” Mr. Esiason said after Mr. Burleson finished his comments. “I can’t hear a thing that anybody said.”The indiscernible commentary quickly drew attention online, with clips garnering tens of thousands of views on Twitter.Sarah Spain, a commentator on ESPN, said on Twitter that she couldn’t hear a word of the halftime broadcast.“Yikes, don’t think CBS realized how disruptive the Walker Hayes halftime show would be during *their* halftime show,” she wrote. Craig Miller, a sports radio host in Dallas, said on Twitter that the “halftime show audio disaster” was “highly entertaining.”CBS did not immediately respond to a request for comment on Sunday night.In a dramatic overtime finish, the Bengals defeated Kansas City, 27-24, with a game-winning field goal that will take them to the Super Bowl to face the Los Angeles Rams. Thankfully, for the “NFL on CBS” crew and those watching at home, there was no live musical performance to interrupt any postgame analysis. More

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    Pee Wee Ellis, James Brown’s Partner in Funk, Dies at 80

    As musical director for the bands behind Mr. Brown and also Van Morrison, Mr. Ellis helped forge new hybrids, meshing pop, jazz, R&B and more.Alfred (Pee Wee) Ellis, a saxophonist, arranger and composer who fused jazz, funk and soul as the musical director for James Brown and Van Morrison, died on Thursday. He was 80.The cause was “complications with his heart,” his Facebook page said. It did not say where he died; he lived in Dorset County, England.Mr. Ellis also performed, arranged and recorded extensively with his own jazz groups, in funk bands with fellow James Brown alumni and as a sideman for a broad array of musicians in jazz, R&B, pop, rock and African music. And his association with Mr. Morrison stretched across two decades.Mr. Ellis shared credit with Mr. Brown for writing 26 songs performed by Mr. Brown, including “Cold Sweat” and “Say It Loud — I’m Black and I’m Proud.”He had a collaborative temperament that allowed him to get along with demanding performers like Mr. Brown, Mr. Morrison, Esther Phillips and the rock drummer Ginger Baker. “I’m not hard to get along with — and I’m a good mediator,” he said in a 2020 interview with The American magazine. “All their problems were their problems, not mine.”Alfred James Ellis was born on April 21, 1941, in Bradenton, Fla. He started playing piano, clarinet and saxophone as a youth, joining the marching band in junior high school. The family moved to Lubbock, Texas, in 1949 after his mother had married Ezell Ellis, who managed local musicians. Those musicians gave Alfred, who was a skinny child, his nickname, Pee Wee.Ezell Ellis was stabbed to death in a Texas club in 1955; a white woman had insisted on dancing with him, and the killer was infuriated at seeing an interracial couple.The family moved to Rochester, N.Y., when Alfred was a teenager, and he played jazz in high school groups and in clubs. He also spent time in New York City and studied at the Manhattan School of Music. He made his first recordings as a sideman.One day, in 1957, he was retrieving his saxophone from a repair shop when he ran into the jazz titan Sonny Rollins on Broadway and boldly asked him for lessons. Mr. Rollins agreed, and Mr. Ellis began making weekly trips to New York City to study with him. In a 2014 interview for the magazine Neon Nettle, Mr. Ellis likened working with Mr. Rollins to being “a sponge in deep water.”After high school he moved to Miami and became a full-time musician. Members of Mr. Brown’s band saw him performing at a motel there in 1965, and soon afterward he was hired to join the band. In a few months Mr. Ellis had become Mr. Brown’s musical director, writing arrangements and teaching them to the band.Mr. Brown in 2010. He made more than a dozen albums as a bandleader.Michelle V. Agins/The New York TimesAfter a show at the Apollo Theater in Harlem, Mr. Brown summoned Mr. Ellis with an idea for a bass line. Then, in the band bus on the way to Cincinnati, Mr. Ellis constructed the rest of the music for what became “Cold Sweat,” a syncopated vamp with a two-note horn line that echoed Miles Davis’s “So What.”Fiercely polyrhythmic and untethered from blues or pop-song forms, the song became a cornerstone of funk. “‘Cold Sweat’ deeply affected the musicians I knew,” the producer Jerry Wexler said in the liner notes to “Star Time,” a James Brown boxed set. “It just freaked them out. For a time, no one could get a handle on what to do next.”Mr. Brown and Mr. Ellis wrote “Say It Loud — I’m Black and I’m Proud,” another funk milestone, in response to the murder of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in 1968 and the subsequent summer of racial unrest.“It was a music that heralded a new attitude,” Mr. Ellis said in a 2020 interview with Jazzwise magazine, “a new and distinctive Black culture, of street culture finding confidence and popularity outside and alongside the establishment. Sweeping into mainstream consciousness during the civil rights movement was unlike anything people had heard, and its positive energy united a new generation making them proud of their music, fashion and political tastes.”But relentless touring and recording with the James Brown band was grueling, and as the 1960s ended Mr. Ellis decided to return to jazz. In the 1970s he arranged and conducted the music for full albums by George Benson and Johnny Hammond; he also recorded with Esther Phillips, Leon Thomas, Hank Crawford, Shirley Scott, Sonny Stitt and Dave Liebman. He released his first full album as a leader, “Home in the Country,” in 1977.Mr. Ellis was invited to do horn arrangements for Van Morrison’s 1979 album, “Into the Music,” starting a lasting relationship. He appeared on Mr. Morrison’s albums for the next 20 years, and had stints as the musical director for Mr. Morrison in the 1980s and 1990s.In the ’90s and 2000s Mr. Ellis rejoined the saxophonist Maceo Parker and the trombonist Fred Wesley, bandmates from his years with Mr. Brown, to perform and make albums under various names, including the J.B. Horns and the J.B.’s Reunion.He led his own group, the Pee Wee Ellis Assembly, and made more than a dozen jazz albums as a leader. His touring projects included a stint in the 2010s with a quartet led by Mr. Baker, the drummer from Cream, and “Still Black Still Proud,” a James Brown tribute featuring African musicians.He also played sessions for, among many others, De La Soul, 10,000 Maniacs, Walter Wolfman Washington, Poncho Sanchez, Oumou Sangaré, Toumani Diabaté, Cheikh Lo and Ali Farka Touré. (Information on his survivors was not immediately available.)Mr. Ellis told The American that he was happiest when collaborating. “Part of the magic,” he said, “is joining forces and making something happen from nowhere.” More

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    Danny Ray, James Brown’s ‘Original Hype Man,’ Dies at 85

    AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyDanny Ray, James Brown’s ‘Original Hype Man,’ Dies at 85He opened thousands of concerts for the “Godfather of Soul,” and closed them by draping a sequined velvet over his body just before the encore.Danny Ray, right, with James Brown backstage at the Apollo Theater in Manhattan in 1964. His cape routine helped cement Mr. Brown’s image as the flamboyant “Godfather of Soul.”Credit…Don Paulsen/Michael Ochs Archives, via Getty ImagesFeb. 12, 2021, 12:58 p.m. ETDanny Ray, who opened thousands of concerts for James Brown with a stem-winding, hype-filled introduction and ended them by draping a sequined velvet cape over the singer’s sweaty, bent-over body, only to have him burst forth in a paroxysm of soulful funk for one last encore, died on Feb. 2 at his home in Augusta, Ga. He was 85.His death was confirmed by Deanna Brown-Thomas, Mr. Brown’s daughter, who called Mr. Ray “the original hype man.”Mr. Ray’s cape routine, which he started in 1962, helped cement Mr. Brown’s flamboyant image even before he catapulted to worldwide celebrity as the “Godfather of Soul.”At the end of his first set in the small clubs where he performed at the time, Mr. Brown, drenched in perspiration, would leave the stage and Mr. Ray would cover him in a Turkish towel. When he was ready for his encore, Mr. Brown would toss it off with an exuberant flip of his arms — an act that the crowd could see clearly, and that fans came to expect.The routine later moved onstage, and it moved into American musical lore in 1964, when Mr. Brown joined the Rolling Stones, the Beach Boys, Marvin Gaye and a long list of other performers at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium for a filmed concert called Teenage Awards Music International, better known as T.A.M.I.The Stones were headlining, but Mr. Brown got 18 minutes, much of it taken up by his hit “Please Please Please.” Less than a minute into the song, as the music built up and Mr. Brown’s body contorted with emotion, he collapsed to his knees, perfectly timed to the beat. The crowd gasped.As the band kept playing and the backup singers, the Famous Flames, kept singing, Mr. Ray came from stage left with a cape. He and Bobby Bennett, one of the Flames, helped Mr. Brown to his feet. He began to hobble off, mumbling to himself as the audience yelled, “Don’t go!”Appearing suddenly to regain his strength, Mr. Brown threw off the cape — again, right on the beat — and returned to the microphone. He and Mr. Ray repeated the routine twice. Each time the crowd grew wilder.“The T.A.M.I. Show,” with Mr. Ray’s routine as its climax, was released in theaters at the end of 1964, and it vaulted Mr. Brown from the R&B circuit to sold-out arenas almost overnight. The Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards later said that agreeing to follow Mr. Brown onstage that night was the worst decision the band had ever made.Mr. Brown performed almost nonstop for the next four decades, earning the title “the hardest-working man in show business.” Mr. Ray was easily the second: When he wasn’t running the show for the audience, he was managing it backstage, overseeing the sprawling Brown entourage with military precision.He made sure the backup singers were on time, their shoes polished and their pompadours coifed. He tended to the minute details of the band’s tailoring, down to his insistence that their jackets have no pockets, lest they leave unsightly lines in the fabric.“From the moment people look at the stage, they are looking at everything, from head to toe,” he told Mr. Brown’s son Daryl for his book “My Father the Godfather” (2014). “How you bring it, how you present it, it’s all about the look.”Mr. Ray took part in a tribute to Mr. Brown at the 2007 Grammy Awards in Los Angeles. He was Mr. Brown’s M.C. for decades and also helped him on a personal level offstage.Credit…M. Caulfield/WireImage, via Getty ImagesDaniel Brown Ray was born on March 22, 1935, in Birmingham, Ala. His father, Willie, was a barber, and his mother, Lucy, was a homemaker.He married in 1957, and the next year he joined the Army. When he left the service in 1961, he and his wife, Rosemarie, settled in New York, where Mr. Ray hoped to find a job behind the scenes in entertainment. He frequented performance halls like the Apollo, trying to get noticed by one of the entourages that trailed behind stars like Johnny Mathis and Sam Cooke.Mr. Ray was an impeccable dresser — even in his 80s, he wore a three-piece suit when he went out, even to the grocery store, Ms. Brown-Thomas said. He soon caught the attention of Mr. Brown, himself immaculate and precise in his wardrobe choices, who hired him as his valet.In early 1962, Mr. Brown was performing a show in Maryland when his regular M.C. didn’t show up. Mr. Brown turned to Mr. Ray.“Tonight’s your night,” he said.Mr. Ray had never been onstage, and he said his knees almost buckled as he walked to the microphone. But once there, he proved a natural, winning over the crowd with his cool, crisp delivery, like a jazz D.J. — in fact, he later hosted a Sunday jazz hour for a radio station in Augusta.Like Mr. Brown, Mr. Ray achieved his onstage confidence through relentless practice and self-discipline. Mr. Ray would record himself speaking, then pore over the tapes, critiquing minute details in his delivery.As Mr. Brown became more flamboyant in his performance through the 1960s, so did Mr. Ray. His introductions grew longer, as did his vowels.“Are you ready to get dooooooown?” he would ask the crowd. “Are you ready for Jaaaaaames Brown? Because right now, it is star time!”By the 1980s, he had added a call and response, leading the crowd in calling for “James Brown! James Brown! James Brown!” until the singer came bursting forth from the wings.Mr. Ray is survived by a brother, Richard, and three sisters, Leila Brumfield, Barbara Jean Ray and Lucy Earth. His wife died in 1986.He took care of Mr. Brown even while offstage, going so far as to move with him from New York to Augusta in the early 1970s. He managed the singer’s rotating cadre of girlfriends and later tried to shield him from tax collectors and nosy friends while he struggled with drug addiction.Mr. Ray struggled as well; along with his own addiction problems, he was forced in the 1980s to sell his house to cover federal and state tax liens. He eventually got clean and worked as an M.C. for other R&B acts, including the Original James Brown Band, which continued to tour after the singer’s death, on Christmas Day 2006.At his funeral, Mr. Ray introduced his old friend the only way he knew how. “Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready for star time?” he asked. Then he draped a cape over Mr. Brown’s open coffin.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More