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As the years drew along, Stevie kept me moving. He made me realize, even as a child, that there was a larger world out there. He made me understand, in his way, that somehow I was lucky and things would all work out. Around about 1980, Stevie introduced me to another one of my eventual musical mistresses. At the time, I had no clue how influential the sound was. He released an album entitled, “Hotter Than July.” The album was a huge success, staying on the Billboard R&B chart for more than 13 weeks. It also topped the pop charts and cracked the UK market as well. It was a big hit. On that album was a song titled, “Master Blaster (Jammin).” As a boy I would play this track over and over. It had a beat I couldn’t shake.

The horns were blazing and the song just sauntered along like an ineffective breeze on an oppressively muggy summer day. I couldn’t shake this driving rhythm and I would sing the lyrics over and over again. When I was much older, I realized the song was dedicated to Bob Marley and this rhythm was a jazzed up American tempered reggae beat.

I flirted with hip hop while I was in junior high. This was also right about the time I became fascinated with Michael Jackson. I probably shouldn’t confess this but, I actually wanted to get a jheri curl like Michael Jackson. After my mom stopped laughing and wiped the tears from her eyes, she managed a dignified but firm no. I was rebellious though and permed a little patch in the front anyway. Just enough to get that little MJ curl on the forehead. Thank the Lord no pictures exist to confirm this. [read: if you have these pics, burn 'em]. So between doing the moonwalk with a sequined glove , and break dancing to Newcleus in the designed dancing room during lunch, my junior high years with music were uneventful.

When I graduated to high school, the Beastie Boys and Def Jam were in full effect. Winter breaks were punctuated with parties where the refrain came, “now what’s the time,” legions replied, “It’s time to get ill.” Beer induced fuzzy nights were spent playing the drinking game “Quarters” and listening to the “son of Byford brother of Al” telling us exactly how hot it was when the kings were on the mike. Once I graduated from high school, I was introduced to Bob Marley through the Legend cd. This dude, along with a book written by Alex Haley, altered my life

The album was “Exodus.” It captured me. Its hypnotic beats, swaying slowly pulling me into a world of heathens, sufferers and the struggle of the human spirit to come out this side of good. It feed a hunger for praise to Africans all around the world. He connected me to a world I had always had a ticket for, but had never known how to get into.

Shaun Mullen over at Kiko’s House writes a great introduction to Bob Marley and his significance.

If Bob got me on the ride, Alex and Malcolm turned the accelerator to full throttle. As I became aware of an American struggle whose length counted 400 years, I understood there was a place prepared for me. I came to know this struggle was not only waged on American soil, but had been waged around the world. At the time, South Africa’s apartheid era was coming to a hotly contested end. Front and center, there was Peter Gabriel, chanting down apartheid and lifting up Biko. I picked up Stephen Biko’s book, I write what I like, and meditated on the power to love something so deeply as to give your life for it.

Gabriel, to me, had a way of working through the nastiness of life and dealing with those burdens of the heart that escaped conversations and tip-toed to the center stage of the brain, accompanied by a spotlight, when we were to ourselves. Always willing to dig in my own dirt, he provided the right music to tend to my inquisitive nature and and nurture an emotional garden generally walled off to the world. I remembered him from the Shock the Monkey days when he was only a bit catchy to me.

But with the release of his So album, I couldn’t release some of those themes from my head. Don’t Give up and Mercy Street were songs that required deep consideration. I still find as amazing, a line reading, “All of the buildings and all of the cars, were once just a dream in someone’s head.” To me, at the time, that was cause for a 12 pack and long consideration. Well, truth be told, it didn’t take much for me to pick up a 12 pack.

Hip hop was a passion but that’s another blog post altogether. But I couldn’t talk about the most influential musicians of my life without bringing up who I believe to be pound for pound the baddest MC. Lauryn Hill. Some folks are on the ground and upset with that selection. How could I pick Lauryn over the likes of Eric B or Jay-Z or Biggie. First off, it feels right to me to not even include Biggie, Tupac or Jay-Z in the same category. This may be my affinity for upfullness, but that’s the way I call that one.

When I think of Lauryn, the old Lauryn that is, I think of the amazing potential of hip hop to reach and uplift. I more than likely omit Jay-Z, Biggie and Tupac because so many little boys that looked were just like me growing up are playing guns in the street. So many little boys like I used to be won’t come home to their mother, or kiss their children goodnight tonight. They’ve listened to the unfiltered lyrics over and over its stuck in their head; shoot first. So many little boys who look like my son will ruin not only their lives, but the lives of countless others pursuing imaginary glory dreams painted by studio gangsters.

Rakim was positive, but Lauryn shined a light into the transformative power of music. She took the streets she knew and spun love into every nook and cranny spoke to the hardened thug, mistreated women and hopeful familys. She once said:

MCs ain’t ready to take it to the Serengeti
My rhymes is heavy like the mind of Sister Betty Shabazz
L. Boogie spars with stars and constellations
Then came down for a little conversation
Adjacent to the king, fear no human being
Roll whatever bims to Nassau Coliseum
Now hear this mixture
Where hip hop meets scripture
Develop a negative into a positive picture

- Lauryn Hill – Everything is Everything(The Mis-Education of Lauryn Hill)

So, if I had a chance to produce the baddest concert ever. Invite any musician dead or alive, this would be my all star lineup:(of course I reserve the right to revise at will):

• Peter Gabriel
• Lauryn Hill
• Bob Marley
• Stevie Wonder

Who would play at your concert?