By: Lennard James
Dr. Logan Westbrooks understood the truth that the music business often overlooks great songs and does not always advance by chance. They move because someone works to build the road, sets the lights, and invites the world to pay attention. In the late 1970s, when Washington, D.C.’s Go-Go scene pulsed in neighborhood clubs and church basements, he saw a local phenomenon with the potential for national reach, and he had the discipline and relationships to help it transition from the city’s dance floors to America’s living rooms. That instinct, refined over decades as a champion of Black music, guided his decisive move: signing Chuck Brown and the Soul Searchers to the newly established Source Records and engineering a breakout that balanced precision, patience, and pride.
Westbrooks’s wager was likely larger than a single chart run. He believed “Bustin’ Loose” could potentially be a hit, and that a community pulse could be translated across radio formats and retail counters without completely smoothing over its character. He began where pioneers often start—by building infrastructure that the sound did not yet have. Through a manufacturing and distribution arrangement with MCA/Universal, he ensured that when curiosity spiked in any market, records would be available to meet demand. He then added an international dimension via an EMI relationship, allowing a European echo for a distinctly American groove. For Westbrooks, distribution was not a mere footnote; it was vital to cultural movement.
The other half of the equation was timing and choreography. Releasing new music into the fourth-quarter rush is a move many veterans tend to avoid, as holiday titles and superstar cycles can overshadow a newcomer. Westbrooks leaned into the challenge. Drawing on trust he had built with programmers, retail buyers, club bookers, and television producers, he staged the single to potentially cut through the seasonal noise. The airplay would be sequenced to spark club demand; club demand would be synchronized with retail inventory; the media would help explain the culture behind the beat so first-time listeners could understand what D.C. already knew. It was not a blitz so much as an orchestra, and he carefully conducted every section.
When “Bustin’ Loose” landed in early 1979, the plan moved forward. Westbrooks flew the band to Los Angeles and ran them through the tastemaker circuit—the right rooms, the right nights, the right ears—where a single performance could shift momentum. He refined the group’s visual identity: sharp uniforms and unified stagecraft so that every appearance, photo, and TV clip reinforced the same message: this is a movement, not just a moment. National exposure on Soul Train sealed the introduction; for millions who had never heard a conga-driven groove outside a D.C. club, Chuck Brown and the Soul Searchers represented a sound, a city, and a season.
Photo Courtesy: Chuck Brown
What marks Westbrooks as a notable figure is not that he “found” Go-Go; the city had already shaped it. His distinction lies in respecting its origin while advocating for its wider platform, one that could be equal to its vitality. He packaged authenticity without completely sterilizing it, showing that Black regional music does not always need translation to be appreciated—just proper placement to be noticed. The outcomes suggested success: radio bases expanded, retail sell-through increased, and demand emerged in markets the band had never played. Source Records rode that wave with professionalism that was uncommon for a fledgling label because Westbrooks had already built credibility with his partners.
By leading with “Bustin’ Loose,” Westbrooks did more than launch a label; he provided a blueprint for moving culture without losing its roots. He did not wait for major companies to validate the sound; he worked to build the validation process—distribution through MCA/Universal, international lift via EMI, and a media cadence that helped teach new audiences how to enter the groove. The method constructed the road, lit it, and invited the world to follow it back to the community that created the music.
The Source Records story, then, is not just a happy accident. It serves as a case study in strategy where logistics meet passion. Westbrooks carefully read the room, city by city, and set a rollout tempo that matched the music’s own endurance. Go-Go’s magic has always lived in repetition that never quite repeats, a communal call-and-response that keeps pulling listeners forward. His campaign mirrored that rhythm: return to key markets, amplify new believers, tighten the story, and gradually widen the circle. In doing so, he helped transform a local heartbeat into a national rhythm and gave the label its signature from day one.
There is a broader legacy in that choice. In an era when regional Black sounds were often treated as novelties, Westbrooks approached Go-Go as something that could become an institution. He matched grassroots energy with corporate muscle, insisting that community music deserved more than just discovery—it deserved infrastructure, narrative, and scale. Nearly half a century later, the lesson still resonates as clearly as that famous horn line: songs do not simply rise; someone helps elevate them. Scenes do not just spread; someone maps the route and pays the costs.
In the late 1970s, few figures were more deliberate or more effective—at doing that work—than Dr. Logan Westbrooks. “Bustin’ Loose” was not just a hit; it was evidence of success. Source Records was not just a label; it was a statement made. And Go-Go was not a fleeting trend; it was a city’s voice, finally heard at the volume it always deserved.
