Rapper Chuck D once declared in song that Elvis Presley never meant much to him. James Brown was a different story.

"If it wasn't for James Brown, there is no hip-hop, there is no rap, there is no funk and there is no soul," Chuck D said this week. "James Brown is necessary fabric for the music we hear today."

Brown, who was to perform yesterday in Waterbury, Conn., died early Monday of heart failure. He was 73.

He was known by many names: Soul Brother No. 1, the Hardest Working Man in Show Business, the Godfather of Soul, Mr. Dynamite, Butane James. Whatever you called him, Brown was no mere icon. He was a pompadoured revolutionary, a one-man musical insurrection in a fur-trimmed cape and high-gloss shoes.

With his pleading, impassioned vocals, Brown helped push R&B into soul on early hits such as "Please, Please, Please" and "Try Me."

Then, as if that wasn't enough, he more or less invented funk. And that hyper-rhythmic James Brown sound colors much of the popular music that has followed, from Parliament to Public Enemy and the Rolling Stones to The Roots.

Brown's influence extended far beyond music. He was a high-profile voice for black America in the 1960s, meeting with politicians and urging self-acceptance on the black community with songs such as, "Say It Loud (I'm Black and I'm Proud)."

"That was very important, looking at our minds, our bodies and our souls: Being black is beautiful," Chuck D said.

Despite his fame and influence, Brown was a study in duality: He spent time at the top of the charts and behind bars. His advocacy of personal responsibility was belied by his financial difficulties and substance abuse. Yet even in his darkest moments, Brown seemed indomitable.

Born into poverty in South Carolina in 1933, Brown spent time in prison in the late '40s on an armed-robbery charge. Paroled with help from the family of singer and collaborator BobByrd, Brown started an R&B group, The Flames. Soon the charismatic Brown received top billing, and the group became James Brown & The Famous Flames.

Brown landed his first hit 50 years ago, when "Please, Please, Please" peaked at No. 5 on the black singles chart. He struggled to duplicate his success until 1958, when "Try Me" hit No. 1 on the black singles chart and cracked the top 50 on the pop singles chart. Brown was rarely off the charts for the next 15 years. His other standout singles include "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag," "Cold Sweat" and "I Got You (I Feel Good)."

"In black people's families in the '60s, it was like he was part of the family," Chuck D said. "The first time you heard anything, you heard James Brown."

Famous for his live shows, Brown thrilled audiences with energetic, sweat-soaked performances, which often found him falling to his knees, displaying his flashy footwork and singing in front of a crack band whose members he fined for mistakes. He was 71 when he played the Calvin Theatre in Northampton, Mass., in early 2005, yet he still broke off a few old-school dance moves that brought down the house.

His distinctive soul sound took on a harder, funkier edge in the late '60s, when he hired a new band to replace musicians who had walked out in protest of his stern, taskmaster's ways. The result: genre-defining funk rave-ups such as "Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine," which made it to No. 15 on the pop singles chart.

Brown was overshadowed in the '70s, as funk blasted into space with George Clinton's psychedelic band Parliament and disco began ruling the charts and the airwaves. Brown's music made it to pop-cultural prominence again in the '80s, though, this time as snippets in rap songs. In fact, it's been said that Brown's drummer, Clyde Stubblefield, is the most sampled musician in the world for his part on Brown's "Funky Drummer."

The singer's personal life eclipsed his music in 1988, when his wife accused him of domestic abuse. Later, after bursting into a seminar in the office next to his and waving a shotgun, Brown led authorities on an interstate car chase while high on PCP. He was sentenced to six years in prison. He served 15 months and spent 10 months in a work-release program before he was paroled in 1991. (next page »)