Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag

Some songs teach you a bass line.

Others give you a way to measure time.

For me, James Brown’s “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag” is one of those songs.

I first encountered it during my online bass course, where it showed up not simply as another song to learn, but as a challenge. And it earned that description. There was plenty of discussion among students about this one. The tempo, the feel, the repetition, the need to stay locked into the groove—it had a way of exposing just how much work still needed to be done.

I remember it being a little intimidating when I first got there.

Then something interesting happened.

I started working through it, and somewhere along the way the song stopped feeling like a test. The pattern began to settle under my fingers. The groove started making sense.

Eventually, it fit like an old pair of shoes.

And I made it through the challenge.

A Recording From January 2025

Two days after finishing the course, in January 2025, I recorded part of “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag.”

I still have that recording.

So I’m including it here.

It is not here because it is a great performance.

That’s exactly the point.

It’s a snapshot.

At the time, I had just completed the course. I knew the notes. I could play the song. I had worked hard enough to get through something that had seemed difficult not long before.

But you can also hear where I was as a player.

There are rough edges. The feel isn’t always completely settled. There’s a difference between knowing where the notes go and being comfortable enough to let the groove carry them there.

Normally, we practice without leaving many breadcrumbs behind. You get a little better today, a little better next week, and perhaps a lot better over the course of a year—but because you were there for every tiny step, you don’t necessarily notice the distance you traveled.

An old recording changes that.

Almost Two Years Later

Fast-forward to September 2026.

I pulled up “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag” again.

And instead of feeling like I was revisiting an old challenge, it felt like I was welcoming an old friend.

That may be the biggest difference between the two recordings.

The notes haven't suddenly become different. The song hasn't slowed down. James Brown certainly didn't make the groove any more forgiving while I was away.

I changed.

There have been hundreds of practice sessions between those recordings. Dozens of other songs. Good takes, bad takes, metronomes, backing tracks, recording sessions, mistakes, corrections, and all the little repetitions that don't seem particularly important while you're doing them.

They add up.

Coming back to this song made that accumulation much easier to hear.

The Pocket Is the Part

“Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag” is also a perfect song for this kind of comparison because there really isn't anywhere for the bass player to hide.

The goal isn't to fill every available space or show how many notes you can play.

The job is to sit in the pocket.

For this recording, I kept the setup just as straightforward: my Squier Classic Vibe ’60s Precision Bass, strung with La Bella 760FX flatwounds, with the tone rolled to about 60 percent and an Ernie Ball mute noodle. On the software side, I used my Logic Pro / Darkglass Ultimate chain for a warm, vintage bass tone.

That's plenty.

A Precision Bass, flatwounds, and a warm signal path put everything where I wanted it. From there, the equipment could get out of the way.

The real work was note length, dynamics, consistency, and time.

This is one of those songs where playing less makes you responsible for more.

Two Takes and a Plane to Catch

The audio and video for this one were actually recorded several days apart.

When I finally had an opportunity to shoot the video, there was one slight complication:

I had a flight to catch.

So this was not going to be a morning of leisurely experimentation.

I started the first take and made it all the way to the third verse before making a mistake significant enough that I knew I wanted another run at it.

Back to the beginning.

Take two.

This time I made it through.

Interestingly, I’m pretty sure I played portions of the song a little differently than I had on the audio recording several days earlier.

And I'm okay with that.

The point isn't to reproduce every physical movement from one performance to another. The point is to understand the part well enough that both performances belong to the same groove.

That may be another form of progress.

Then I packed up and headed for the airport.

I arrived at my gate about ten minutes before boarding.

Perfectly timed.

I’m sure that had been the plan all along.

And Then There Were Donuts

After all that rushing around, I finally got on the plane and ordered some cashews.

The woman sitting next to me leaned over and told me she was 90 years old and traveling by herself.

She said she used to love eating nuts.

“But now I don't have any teeth.”

Naturally, I asked what she ate instead.

Without missing a beat, she replied:

“Donuts.”

Ninety years old, traveling solo, and her comedic timing was better than mine.

After spending the day worrying about musical timing, video timing, airport timing, and whether I was going to make the flight, that seemed like a pretty good way to end it.

Practice Doesn't Always Announce Itself

That January 2025 recording may be one of the more important recordings I've saved.

Not because of how good it sounds.

Because of what it preserves.

It captured the version of me who had just finished an online bass course and was proud to have made it through a song that had been deliberately placed there as a challenge.

The new recording captures the player who came back almost two years later.

I'm still learning. There are still mistakes. There will always be another song that feels just beyond comfortable.

But this one doesn't anymore.

That's the strange thing about practice: most of the time, improvement happens too slowly to watch.

You don't feel dramatically different after Tuesday night's practice session. Or Thursday's. Or the next hundred times you pick up the bass.

Then one day you return to something that used to be difficult.

You put your fingers on the strings.

The count comes in.

And the old challenge fits like an old pair of shoes.

Same song.

Different player.

And maybe that's the best evidence of practice we get.