James Brown's electrifying 1963 recording Live at the Apollo was a revelation to those not aware of his primordial power, and a confirmation to those who were. It kept selling for an entire year, and would become the yardstick against which all succeeding live albums were to be forever measured (and found to fall short). Still, the 1968 double-album Volume II may actually be the better Brown performance, even though about 30 minutes had to be edited out and the running order of the songs altered to fit the four-sides-of-vinyl format. This two-CD reissue restores those minutes to the 1967 show, and re-sequences the tracks in their proper order (though, admittedly, not all of the revue is here).

This was the band with which Brown laid the groundwork for the 1970s funk explosion. Sporting two drummers (plus a bongo player) and two guitarists, it had been together about nine months, with two crucial new additions: bandleader, alto saxman and occasional organist Pee Wee Ellis, and Maceo Parker, the tenor saxist extraordinaire who'd left the JB's a couple years earlier for an Army hitch, and who'd rejoined about a month before the June 16-25 Apollo stand these recordings were culled from. With this troupe, which was known to vamp on one chord for minutes on end while Brown hoarsely screamed, sang and scatted, rhythm was everything: At times, every instrument was being played like a drum, from Jimmy "Chank" Nolen's chunky, choke-rhythm guitar to the horn section's percussive jabs. This 8:55 version of "There Was a Time" (RealAudio excerpt) could well be the single most relentless musical performance ever put on tape. It's the centerpiece of an astonishing 19:30 jam that includes "Let Yourself Go" (with Nolen the standout) and "I Feel All Right" (with the audience joining in on vocals).

On the uptempo cuts, which Brown seemed to direct with his right foot, the band could swell into a full orchestral sound and then pare down to a hot-knife-through-butter combo. "Cold Sweat" (RealAudio excerpt), debuted for audiences during these shows, is a piledriver, while "Maybe the Last Time" shuffles deftly on the patterns of drummer Jabo Starks. But Brown also added three cascading violinists for the Apollo run, so he could sweet-sing his way through saloon ballads like "I Wanna Be Around," "That's Life," the majestic "Prisoner of Love," and "It's a Man's Man's Man's World" (RealAudio excerpt), a 19-minute passion play in which JB set new scenes with snatches of other songs.

And then there's James Brown the lyricist, an aspect of his greatness often overlooked. In June 1967, while acid- and folk-rockers were singing about flowers in their hair at the Monterey International Pop Festival on the other end of the country, Soul Brother Number One was at the Apollo with this report from the groove front: "In my hometown/ Where I used to stay/ The name of the place/ Is Augusta G-A/ Down there we have a good time/ We don't talk/ We all get together/ In any type of weather/ And then we do/ The camel walk." If that ain't music to hallucinate by, nothing is.