Think (About It)

Released on 27 September 1972, Think (About It) captures Lyn Collins at full voltage, fronting the unstoppable machinery of James Brown’s orbit with a voice that cuts straight through the groove. Billed as her debut, the album feels less like an introduction and more like an arrival, rooted firmly in the tight, percussive discipline of The J.B.’s while giving Collins space to command the room.

The title track remains the centrepiece. Written and produced by James Brown, it is all snap and swagger, built around a raw drum break and a call-and-response energy that feels almost live in its immediacy. Collins does not just ride the rhythm, she drives it, her vocal pushing against the groove with urgency and grit. It is no surprise the track would go on to take on a life of its own, its drum break and vocal fragments echoing across generations.

Elsewhere, the album balances originals with carefully chosen covers. ‘Ain’t No Sunshine’ and ‘To Love Somebody’ are stripped back just enough to let Collins’ phrasing do the work, while ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ and ‘Reach Out for Me’ lean into a smoother, more measured soul. ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ arrives as an unexpected turn, handled with a looseness that keeps it anchored within the album’s broader feel.

The inclusion of earlier recordings, such as ‘Just Won’t Do Right’ and ‘Things Got to Get Better’, adds an interesting texture. Their origins in 1968 sessions give the album a sense of continuity, bridging eras within the same sound. Meanwhile, ‘Women’s Lib’ stretches out past five minutes, allowing the band to lock into a deeper groove, all horns, organ and rhythm section interplay.

What holds it together is the sheer strength of the backing musicians. With members of The J.B.’s and the wider James Brown ensemble throughout, the album is defined by its precision. The arrangements are tight but never rigid, leaving just enough room for Collins to push and pull against them.

Think (About It) is not just a product of its time, it is a blueprint. Even within its original context, it feels immediate, physical and alive. Collins may have been part of a wider machine, but here, she is unmistakably the focal point.