Band leader; singer; dancer and prancer; funk conjurer; hot-pants fetishist; Apollo reg; Soul Brother Nos. 1, 2, and 3; heroin poet as intense as Lou; pimp before Curtis touched the image; godfather; Eddie Murphy skit; soundtrack hack for Doctor Detroit and Rocky IV; Helmet Hair; goldmine for hiphop; criminal wife beater; skirt chaser; car crasher; police collar; ex-con; vinyl-geek icon; Mr. Detox: James Brown has been all of these things. While others in his crew have since left for family tours (Bobby Byrd) or new solo thrills (Maceo Parker), Brown still sticks to what he knows best: his back catalog. Although I have heard that he gave up doing the split four years ago, his singing has definitely improved beyond his trademark grunt. See the legend who could make Ike Turner weak in the knees—before his hips go plastic. At 7:30 p.m. at the 9:30 Club, 815 V St. NW. $50. (202) 393-0930. (Jason Cherkis)