Written by James Brown, Bobby Byrd and Ron Lenhoff
Recorded by James Brown and the J.B.'s

This is undoubtedly an outstanding piece of music from Soul Brother Number 1, but since I'm here to focus on bridges, let's be clear - this is the song! As far as I know, it's the first time a singer discusses the bridge with his band before they get there. This is the original "Take me to the bridge" song! It's a tremendous part of musical history and endlessly meaningful to this blog.

It's also a rare song that includes parenthesis in the middle of the title. I've borrowed this parentheses application technique from Mr. Brown for a song's title, but enough about me - we're here to discuss the Godfather of Soul, and I'm the consigliere of soul at best. 

This song was one of the first collaborations with the recently formed J.B.'s, a band with a much funkier and more contemporary approach to the music than Brown's previous groups. This is funk at its grooviest and most inviting. If you can't dance to this song, you shouldn't be dancing at all. The groove is wonderfully relentless and no backup singer has ever been as supportive as Bobby Byrd. So when we get to that midpoint part of the song, Bobby and the band are ready for James:

Brown: Bobby? Can I take 'em to the bridge?
Byrd: Go Ahead!
Brown: Take 'em on to the bridge?
Byrd: Take 'em to the bridge!
Brown: Can I take 'em to the bridge?
JBs: Yeah! Go ahead!
Brown: Take 'em to the bridge?
JBs: Yeah! Go ahead!
Brown: Hit me now!

And with that, we are into it! It's always a delightful bonus when the bridge offers us new or conflicting information. At first listen, one might think that Brown is reiterating his thoughts in the bridge: he wants to get up and stay on the scene like a sex machine. In other words, James is feeling it, he wants to get his groove on, and he wants everyone to know that it's going to be non-stop, hot action. But this is not just about being a sex machine, once we get to the bridge, James Brown has become a loving machine. 

After the bridge, James and company keep the love going and stay on the scene until they get to the end. As with the beginning of the song and throughout the bridge, this band does things by committee. So when Brown asks the band to hit it, or count off the beats, the band responds with "one more time" and when he asks to "hit it and quit it," he is supported with "go ahead" and "yeah!" What an awesome band! I don't think Tony Orlando was getting that support from Dawn. Where were the Waves when Katrina wanted to hit and quit it? They probably just kept playing and the engineer had to fade the song. Nothing was hit, and nothing was legitimately quit. 

Musically, this song finds its home grounded mostly in the "1" chord, jumping up to the "4" for the bridge, and intro/outro "hits." But within those chords, there are numerous voicings and every which way one can funk.  

Everything about "Get Up" is awesome, from beginning to end, and it wouldn't be anything without that historic bridge at the center of it all. Unrelated, I sometimes think about James Brown, Al Green and Barry White as part of a soulful collection of crayons. 

​- Matthew J. Kaplan

Written by Gerry Goffin and Carole King
Recorded by The Cookies

There are endless wonderful songs from this period, and the majority of them have outstanding bridges, but bridges that do not fall into the definition I use for this blog. More details can be found here, but one defining rule is that the bridge must only happen once. In The Cookies' "Don't Say Nothin' Bad," we have one bridge, and an absolutely lovely one at that! 

Written by heroes of the 20th Century, Gerry Goffin and Carole King, the story follows a narrator assaulted by the trash talk of her peers, who insist that her man is no good.

As The Cookies, this was their biggest hit. The group found their first success as The Raelettes, providing the legendary backup vocals to Ray Charles in songs such as "Night Time Is the Right Time," "What'd I Say" and "Hit the Road Jack". As session musicians, they were responsible for harmonies on popular songs like "Breaking Up Is Hard To Do" and "The Loco-Motion." After some line-up changes, at the time of this recording, The Cookies were Dorothy Jones, Margaret Ross and Earl-Jean McCrea, three talented singers prepared to fill any role in the vocal mix.

While the band didn't have a traditional lead singer, like many girl groups of the time, for "Don't Say Nothin' Bad," Earl-Jean is most highlighted in this song.

In the first verse, our narrator remains patient while explaining that her man's good and that's all she cares about. But after the gossipers persist that he's a playboy, she's had enough, declaring, "He's true to me, so girl you better shut your mouth!" I like it!

And this takes us to the bridge, and another chance to set the record straight. When everybody says he's lazy, she explains, "but not when he's kissin' me." And when they say he's crazy, she retorts, "Sure he's crazy,
​crazy about me." I buy that. He seems ok. Why's everyone talking such smack? 

Musically, the song is a straightforward "1-4-5" progression with the bridge starting at the 4-chord. I love the signature piano riff but I can't find any information about the pianist. If it hasn't yet been sampled, I'd love to hear someone grab those 8 bars and add it to some beats and rhymes. And of course, we have the marvelous sax solo, recorded by King Curtis, who in his tragically short life contributed to the history of rock n' roll as much as anyone else. And like many songs of the era, there are handclaps! 

One final note about that great line, "He's true to me, so girl you better shut your mouth!" Sixteen years after the release of this song, Holly and the Italians released "Tell That Girl to Shut Up." Covered with more success nine years later by Transvision Vamp, this song's narrator focuses her anger at a girl who has stolen her man - and oh yeah, this song also contains a great bridge! Maybe we'll get to it in greater depth, but until then, keep your lip zipped and Don't Say Nothin' Bad About My Baby!

Say It Ain't So
Written by Rivers Cuomo
Recorded by Weezer

Weezer's self-titled debut album (aka The Blue Album) is outstanding and it's one of my favorite records from the 90s. After being treated with two whimsical singles, "Buddy Holly" and "Undone" (The Sweater Song), we got hit with the heavy-duty "Say It Ain't So," a song that addresses addiction and the emotional toll it takes on a family. Specifically, in this case, how a father's (or step-father's) alcoholism remains traumatic to a son, years after the last bottle is emptied. Not your everyday pop song!

Our narrator is disturbed to find a Heineken in his icebox, spiraling him back into the childhood pain long ago swept under the rug. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore it, but it keeps "bubbling" and the "bottle is ready to blow." Great metaphors. 

Despite his pain and awareness that his parent's "drug is a heartbreaker," he is unable to confront this addict, and remains cool - that is until the bridge, and the raw, explosive letter he finally writes:

Dear Daddy, I write you in spite of years of silence.
You've cleaned up, found Jesus, things are good, or so I hear.

But while his letter is kind and loving, he does not end it before letting his father know that a bottle of alcohol has awoken "ancient feelings," the trauma is always present, and "the son is drowning in the flood." The flood of constant pain? The flood of drinks ushered in by the inherited alcoholism? Whether the son has followed in his father's footsteps or not, the damage has been done and this child is far from any sort of emotional peace or well-being.

Musically, the majority of the song is four chords, orchestrated and syncopated differently, depending on whether we are in the intro/break, verse or chorus (the chorus has those lovely, iconic, Cobainesque guitar exclamations). At the bridge, the song drops down a whole step and moves from minor to major - symbolic of the narrator's final breakdown and his strong, clear message.

As the letter ends, the wound opens, and the guitar solo cries our narrator's pain. But like the mimicry of the guitar's call-and-response parts at the end of the solo, his plea to his father goes unanswered and it is only his own emotions bouncing back to him. 

After the bridge, there are no new verses and no lyrical resolution. The best the narrator can hope for is denial, the pain is too much to handle - all he can ask, again and again, is to "say it ain't so." 

While there is a rich history of drinking songs expressing the damage it can do to one's romantic and financial situation (see the complete blues and country music catalogs), rarely have we heard one that so honestly and openly explores the family trauma caused by alcoholism. 

The song, and the entire record, were produced by the late, oh-so-great, Ric Ocasek. We might get into some of Ocasek's other productions with great bridges, and we most certainly will check out a Cars song or two along the way. Buckle up!