If you’ve ever found yourself nodding along to a heavy, distorted bassline or a caveman-like grunt in a rap song, you’ve probably heard Jimmy Castor and the Bunch. They weren’t just another funk band from the seventies. They were the architects of a specific kind of "everything but the kitchen sink" groove that paved the way for Bronx block parties and, eventually, global pop dominance.
Most people know "Troglodyte (Cave Man)." It’s that weird, funky track where a guy with a gravelly voice narrates the life of a prehistoric lover. It’s hilarious. It’s catchy. But honestly? It’s just the tip of the iceberg for a group that was way more musically sophisticated than their novelty hits suggested. Jimmy Castor was a prodigy. He wasn't just some guy making funny noises; he was a Juilliard-trained multi-instrumentalist who could play the saxophone, piano, and vibes with the best of them.
The Doo-Wop Roots of a Funk Powerhouse
Before the heavy funk, there was the street corner. Jimmy Castor didn't start out trying to be the "Everything Man." He started in the 1950s with The Juniors. If you’re a deep-cut R&B nerd, you might know that he actually wrote "I Promise to Remember," which became a hit for Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers.
He was a kid from Manhattan. He grew up surrounded by the transition from jump blues to rock and roll. That versatility defined him. When he eventually formed Jimmy Castor and the Bunch in the early 1970s, he wasn't just following a trend. He was smashing genres together. He took the grit of the street, the polish of his classical training, and a sense of humor that most serious musicians at the time were too afraid to show.
The lineup was tight. You had Gerry Thomas on keyboards—who later became a huge part of the Fatback Band—and Doug Gibson on bass. These guys weren't playing around. They were creating a sound that was dense, rhythmic, and perfectly suited for the burgeoning New York underground scene.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Novelty Hits
It’s easy to dismiss a band when their biggest song is about a caveman named Bertha. "Troglodyte (Cave Man)" hit the top ten in 1972, and it’s a weird record. Let’s be real. It starts with a spoken-word intro about "the beginning" and then drops into one of the nastiest breaks in music history.
People think it was just a joke. It wasn't.
That song sold over a million copies because the groove was undeniable. It had this raw, primitive energy that resonated with people who were tired of the overly polished Motown sound. But if you listen to the rest of the album, It's Just Begun, you realize the "Bunch" were actually fusion masters. The title track, "It's Just Begun," is arguably the most important song in breakdancing history.
Without that track, B-boy culture looks completely different.
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The song features these soaring horns, a driving Latin-influenced percussion section, and a breakdown that basically demanded people get on the floor. It’s been sampled by everyone from Grandmaster Flash to Eric B. & Rakim to Pharrell. If you claim to love hip-hop but haven't sat down with the original six-minute version of "It's Just Begun," you’re missing a foundational text.
The B-Boy Connection and the Sampling Goldmine
Why did the early hip-hop pioneers gravitate toward Jimmy Castor? It’s the texture.
Early DJs like Kool Herc and Grandmaster Flash were looking for "the break"—that part of the record where the vocals drop out and the drums take over. Jimmy Castor and the Bunch gave them plenty. But it wasn't just the drums. It was the "attitude." Castor had this persona he called "The Everything Man." He was fearless.
He'd mix a hard rock guitar riff with a Latin mambo beat and then throw in a cartoonish voice-over. It was collage music before digital sampling existed.
Think about "The Bertha Butt Boogie." On the surface, it’s a sequel to "Troglodyte." It’s silly. It’s about the "Butt Sisters." But listen to the percussion. The layers of congas and shakers are incredibly complex. It’s a rhythmic masterclass.
- Kanye West sampled them.
- The Beastie Boys practically lived off their grooves.
- Ice Cube used their sounds to anchor West Coast G-funk.
- J Dilla found nuances in their B-sides that others missed.
This wasn't just "funk." It was a toolkit for the future.
Beyond the Caveman: The Musicality of the Everything Man
Jimmy wasn't just a gimmick. He was a legit sax player. When he wasn't doing the "Bertha" voice, he was playing soaring, soulful lines that could compete with Junior Walker.
The Bunch functioned as a self-contained unit. They didn't need a massive orchestra. They made a lot of noise with a few guys. That's why their records feel so "live." You can hear the room. You can hear the sweat. In an era where music was becoming increasingly "produced," the Bunch kept it visceral.
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They also touched on social issues, albeit in their own stylized way. Songs like "Luther the Anthropoid" or their various "E-Man" tracks were sort of coded commentaries on identity and survival in the urban jungle. Castor used the prehistoric imagery as a metaphor for the raw, untapped power of the people in the city. Or maybe he just liked cavemen. Honestly, with Jimmy, it could be both.
The Struggle for Recognition in a Changing Industry
By the late 70s, the musical landscape was shifting. Disco was taking over. The raw, gritty funk of the early Bunch albums started to feel "too dirty" for the glitzy clubs.
Castor tried to adapt. He moved to Atlantic Records and later to Cotillion. He kept making music, and some of it was great, but the massive commercial heights of the early 70s were hard to replicate. The industry wanted "slick." Jimmy was "stank."
He never stopped working, though. He was a hustler in the best sense of the word. He understood the business. He fought for his royalties. He knew that even if he wasn't on the charts, his drums were ringing out of every boombox in Brooklyn. He became a cult hero.
Why You Should Care Today
We live in a world of "vibe" music. Everything is curated. Everything is polished. Jimmy Castor and the Bunch represent the opposite of that. They represent the "controlled chaos" of 1970s New York.
When you listen to them, you’re hearing the sound of a city in flux. You’re hearing the transition from the civil rights era to the hip-hop era. They are the bridge.
If you’re a producer, their catalog is a goldmine of drum fills and vocal stabs. If you’re a music historian, they are a vital link in the evolution of Black American music. And if you’re just someone who likes to dance? Well, there is nothing that hits quite like that drop in "It's Just Begun." It’s a physical reaction. You can't help it.
How to Properly Explore the Jimmy Castor Discography
Don't just stick to the Greatest Hits. You'll miss the good stuff.
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- Start with the album It's Just Begun (1972). It’s the blueprint. Listen to "Psyche" for a taste of their more experimental side.
- Move to Phase Two (1972). It has a killer cover of "Say Leroy (The Creature from the Black Lagoon)" which continues the monster theme but with a jazzier edge.
- Check out the E-Man Groovin' album from 1975. This is where the production gets a little heavier and the bass gets even more prominent.
- Look for the live recordings. The Bunch were legendary performers. They brought an energy to the stage that was infectious.
Actionable Steps for Music Fans and Creators
If you want to really appreciate what this band did, don't just stream them on low-quality speakers. These tracks were meant to be felt.
Get the vinyl. If you can find an original pressing of It's Just Begun on RCA, buy it. The analog warmth does wonders for those drum breaks. The way the bass interacts with the kick drum on those old pressings is something digital remasters often struggle to capture.
Study the arrangements. If you're a musician, pay attention to how Gerry Thomas uses the Clavinet. It’s not just rhythmic; it’s melodic. He uses it like a percussive lead instrument, which was a huge influence on how Stevie Wonder and others would later use the instrument.
Dig into the samples. Go to a site like WhoSampled and look up "It's Just Begun." Spend an afternoon listening to the songs that sampled it. It’s a fascinating exercise in seeing how one five-second drum break can spawn an entire genre. You’ll see how Jimmy’s DNA is woven into the fabric of modern music.
Support the estate. Jimmy passed away in 2012, but his legacy is managed by his family. Whenever possible, buy official reissues or merchandise. Keeping the "Everything Man" alive is important for the culture.
The Bunch weren't just a backing band. They were a collective of high-level musicians who decided to have a little fun while they changed the world. They proved that you could be a genius and a clown at the same time. That's a lesson more artists today could stand to learn.
So, next time you hear a weird grunt in a rap song or a drum break that makes you want to move, give a little nod to Jimmy. He saw it all coming. He was the Caveman who knew exactly where the future was headed.