Last week, the Godfather of Soul shimmied on up to the big boogie-fest in the sky, and I paid my respects in the only way I could: By roller skating in Redwood City. For this brilliant idea, I can only thank a friend of mine who passed along the news of a roller rink jam tribute to James Brown, with the promise of music and costumes. Even though I hadn’t been on skates in years, how could I turn that kind of homage down?

I’m not exactly someone you’d peg as having much of a funky side. But there’s a place in my soul (perhaps inspired by childhood memories of singing my naïve heart out to Sex Machine and The Payback) that craves some frenzied, funky, stress-releasing music every now and again. Whenever possible, I try to make music a part of my travels.

Jazz Fest has drawn me to New Orleans a number of times to dance ‘til dawn. I remember sitting in the welcomingly dark shadows of the Funky Butt bar (pre-Katrina), on the lookout for the likes of Maceo Parker, who worked closely with Brown back in the day. This past Memorial Day, I stayed in Miami Beach during Hip Hop weekend, and was treated to the groove-parade of pimped-out rides going up and down Ocean Drive, all of them blasting beats heavily Brown-influenced and loud enough to make even the palm trees seem to “git on up” and dance.

Despite the unfortunate mug-shot photo, I’ll certainly miss reading about James Brown’s career comebacks in the news, but I know that no matter where I travel, his hits will ring out on many a jukebox, dance floor, and roller rink for years to come.