Most parentheticals in song titles are there to remind you of a line in the song and can be safely lopped off for shorthand, e.g., "(Marie's the Name) His Latest Flame" or "Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)." So what are we supposed to do here? "Get Up Sex Machine"? And what about that second "like" inside the parenthetical? You'd think anyone would feel like a sex machine rather than like being like one. (In fairness, "Sex Machine" is obviously the shorthand, and this odd version of the title does not often appear outside of Billboard references. Even so, I have to think it must have shown up on the label of a 45 somewhere, sometime.) But shoot, no one gives a crap about such niceties once this thing uncorks, which it does in exactly 12 seconds. At which point it could go on forever, and probably has on some outstanding nights and I only wish I could have been there. Here we are privileged to witness the Godfather of Soul at one of his absolute peaks of power. The band doesn't want to get fined, so they sure are tight, and JB rides the groove like a surfboard, focused and obviously relishing each moment as he consults with the band, directs it "to the bridge" (if not the first time he has resorted to this trope it may well be the most famous), and ultimately brings it to a close with an astonishing flourish, all poise balanced by power. Not sure how much the whole thing has to do with sex—there doesn't appear to be a woman (or otherwise sex partner) in sight, except of the most highly theoretical kind. It's more about working hard, as is most of his catalog in one way or another. And it's only one of the many peaks along James Brown's highlands.
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