Master scalpel and tape handler, DoctorSoul is back on his night shift with his incredible Re-Therapy of Lyn Collins’ Think (About It).
Clocking in at 115 BPM, DoctorSoul delivers another precision surgery leaving Think nipped, tucked and ready for an eager crowd in 2026.
But do you know the story of this track?
The story begins, as so many important stories in dance music do, with a moment that probably felt completely ordinary to the people in the room.
It’s 1972. Somewhere inside the relentless machinery of the James Brown organisation — part band, part army, part travelling university of groove — a track is being cut for one of Brown’s vocalists, Lyn Collins. Collins is no lightweight. Brown called her The Female Preacher for a reason. She could command a microphone the same way a revivalist commands a tent.
The band behind her is the J.B.’s, perhaps the tightest funk unit ever assembled. The drums snap. The guitar scratches in clipped Morse-code rhythms. Brown himself hovers somewhere nearby, shaping the session with the same obsessive intensity he brought to everything.
They record a song called Think (About It).
At the time, it’s simply another brick in the colossal musical empire Brown is building through People Records. It charts modestly. It does its job. The tour rolls on.
But buried inside the track is a moment — a few bars that will outlive almost everyone involved in making it.
The band drops into a break.
The drums crack open.
Voices explode in the background.
“Woo! Yeah!”
It lasts only seconds. A flash of rhythm and human noise. Something between a rehearsal jam and a congregation losing its composure.
No one in that room could possibly know what they’ve just created.
Fourteen years later, in 1986, the break reappears on a compilation called Ultimate Breaks & Beats — the unofficial scripture for hip-hop DJs digging through crates in New York basements. Suddenly that tiny fragment from a 1972 funk record becomes raw material.
Samplers arrive. Machines like the SP-1200 begin pulling these moments apart, looping them, twisting them, dropping them into entirely new contexts.
And the “Think break” begins to spread.
First through hip-hop. Then house. Then jungle. Then drum & bass. Then everywhere.
Thousands of tracks borrow it. Some use the drums. Some use the shouts. Some lift the entire moment wholesale. The “Woo! Yeah!” becomes one of the most recognisable sounds in modern music — a tiny explosion of joy echoing across decades of dance floors.
What’s extraordinary is how accidental it all feels. The history of dance music is often written as if it were a series of master plans. In reality it’s usually a chain reaction of small events: a groove captured on tape, a DJ finding the right moment, a sampler turning seconds into infinity.
Lyn Collins’ Think (About It) is one of those accidents.
A throwaway break inside a James Brown session becomes a global rhythmic language.
And somewhere in the background of half the records you’ve ever danced to, that same voice is still shouting into the void:
Woo.
Yeah.
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