is a staggering collection. It goes well beyond the usual hits 'n' rarities approach of boxed retrospectives to get at the essence of Brown's development from gospel-style shouter ("Please Please Please") to Soul Brother No. 1 ("Papa's Got a Brand New Bag") and from Godfather of Soul ("My Thang") to grandfather of rap ("Unity," with Afrika Bambaataa), while sprinkling in pseudonymous hits like "(Do the) Mashed Potatoes, Pt. 1," originally credited to "Nat Kendrick and the Swans," instrumental singles ("Grits," with Brown on organ) and the expected batch of hard-to-find gems and unreleased recordings.

But Star Time is no mere "and then we wrote ..." retrospective. Rather than relying on edits that were designed to sell singles, producer Harry Weinger pored over session tapes to find the full-length versions of these hits. That provides more in terms of listening time – all six minutes and eighteen seconds of "Mother Popcorn," for instance, instead of the 3:11 offered by The CD of JB – but the advantage isn't simply a matter of length. The unexpurgated versions convey a sense of Brown's intent, an understanding of the energy behind these singles. And in that regard, Star Time is a real eye-opener.

"Papa's Got a Brand New Bag" is probably the most startling piece of session-tape spadework, since it unearths the complete, unreleased original take (including studio chatter that finds Brown fretting that "there's a lotta words here, man," then crowing, "This is a hit!") and follows it with the shortened, speeded-up single that first put him in the Top Ten. But the collection makes an even better point with "I Got You," letting an unreleased 1964 take set up the two "Papa" 's before bringing in the 1965 hit version – "I Got You (I Feel Good)" – to demonstrate just how much Brown's new bag had toughened his band's attack.

Brown's strength, after all, was not merely as a singer but as a bandleader, and Star Time makes a special point of showing just how much genius he was able to pull from his various ensembles. Whether coaxing funk from his sidemen on "Cold Sweat" or letting them stretch out over the insistent groove of "Get It Together," Brown played his band the way Ray Charles played piano, with minimal effort and maximum soul. Particularly amazing are two previously unreleased live tracks – a stop-on-a-dime medley of