The Messenger Volume 2002 Article 21 Issue 1 The Messenger, 2002

2002 Naima's Rhythm Graham Eng-Wilmot

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Recommended Citation Eng-Wilmot, Graham (2002) "Naima's Rhythm," The Messenger: Vol. 2002: Iss. 1, Article 21. Available at: http://scholarship.richmond.edu/messenger/vol2002/iss1/21

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Les absentmindedly rubbed the yello\v­ driving cap stepped around a cabinet and ing receipt between his thumb and forefin­ approached Les. "Yuh lookin fo sumpin spe­ ger as he read the store sign. "Blue's cial?" he said, adjusting his small rimmed Memories - 6 St. Mark's Place." He looked glasses to size up Les. "Yeah I knows yuh do\vn at the slip of paper in his hand and arc. Yuh done came to the right place. Yuh's thought, "I'll be damned - it's still here." searchin for some memories of yuh child­ A metallic bell rang as he pushed open hood I bet. 01 Blue here will fix yuh right the door to the shop. A photo of Louis up. What tunes yuh tryin to remember?" Armstrong's grin and the sweet swoon of an "I didn't come for records today Sir." Aretha Franklin chorus, "Daydreaming and "Son, I gots the best vinyl selection in I'm thinking of you, Daydreaming and I'm the Village aight? But if yuh came fo posters thinking of you," drifting from the in-store or somethin else I gots that too. And yuh soundsystem greeted rum. The walls were don't have to call me 'sir' youngblood. Yuh covered with album covers, '60s and '70s done makin me feel old - Blue will do." music posters and memorabilia. And the dis­ "Sure ... Blue. Actually I didn't co1ne play shelves were packed with neat stacks of for anything musical. I ... well ... someone records, all bagged in protective plastic sent me one of your old store receipts and I sleeves, carefully sorted by category - soul, \Vas in the area, so I thought I'd come by and r'n'b, jazz, funk, rock, blues, gospel. sec if you were still here." Les, who was the only customer in the "I still be here son, Blue's Memories store, was immediately struck by the nostal­ since 1963, but I don know bout yuh receipt. gic atmosphere of the place. His eyes Lotta peoples come through here sell all \videned to take in all the photos of black they records one day then come and buy em musicians: Jirni, Ella, and James Bro\vn, BB back the next. So what's so special bout the King, Sade and Al Green, Miles, Coltrane receipt? Somebody break the bank on vinyl?" and Bill Cosby. He'd never seen such an "No. Nothing like that. I think it may assortment of history packed into one place. have belonged to my mother. But I'm not But it aggravated him. He was too used to sure. It's been a long time since she passed." the open space of his immaculately clean Aretha's sonorous voice faded out and apartment - minimal and uncluttered in Oliver Nelson's "Stolen Moments" ushered every way. in an atmosphere of melancholy over the "What kin I do fo yuh youngblood?" speakers. The mellow, but intense melody asked a raspy voice from the back of the line silenced the honks, squeals and yells of store. A short, older black man conservative­ the bustling crowd on the streets outside ly dressed in a wool sweater vest, slacks and with one musical sigh. 24 "Well let me see the receipt an see what wrote it. Yuh moms, Naima Harris, came up I kin remember. My memories is as good as in here and sold off her entire collection of anyone elses. Man listen to Freddie Hubbard vinyl. All soul music son. I member it clearly blow that horn. I love this here solo." cuz she had a shopping cart - one of those Les handed the old man the yellow slip. silvuh chrome deals with the \vheels that "Oh see here son. This ain't a receipt for don't roll straight and squeak up a storm. purchase. This is a receipt fo sale. Somebody Yeah man. That cart was overflo,ving \vith musta sold me some records back there in ... albums and she rolled it right in the same let's see ... slip says October 17 of '73." door yuh came in today. She musta had Blue started rummaging behind the everything. Yuh could tell they been played, counter muttering the date over and over­ but they was all clean. I almost didn't have stopping to look at the slip again-checking the heart to buy 'em all from her." the date and then back to rummaging. "Are you sure about that Sir? I recall "Ah here it is. Muh box of records here playing with a couple Beatles albums my from '73. Yuh gotta keep these kinda things mother had, but our living room cabinet kid. Yuh never know what the taxman gone always seemed empty." ask you bout. Here we are. October 17. Oh man. " "Needle drops of Blue \vent silent. H e slid his glasses memories spanning the six down so they barely remained perched on his nose as he looked over the scrawled short years between his birth records of transactions-the vinyl he had and her death. 11 bought and traded nearly 30 years ago. Les stared at the storeowner and began "Son. I told yuh sure as sheetrock is drumming his fingers on the glass counter­ hard I member. I even got some of the top, starting to get annoyed with the rum­ albums written down here - the mage of the old store and its keeper's ancient Impressions, Nite-lighters, Isaac Hayes, recordkeeping system. But he 'vas also curi­ Funkadelic, all them James Brown records, ous about \vhat information the receipt yeah ... Every single James Brown release might yield. He somehow knew it was his up to then, even the foty-fives - 'Mother mother's. Although he wasn't quite sure why. Popcorn,' 'Sex Machine,' 'Super Bad,' 'I Got He only remembered broken fragments of that Feelin,' 'Out of ... " her. Bits and pieces of images and sounds, "Did she tell you why she was selling touches and evoked feelings. Needle drops them?" interrupted Les. of memories spanning the six short years "Yeah son, jus calm down. She just kept between his birth and her death. looking at me with a half-hearted smile and "Yuh moms name Naima youngblood?" I axed her if she was sure about sellin em. said Blue as he read out of his notebook. She said yeah - she needed the money fo "Yes, Naima Harris," Les said, surprised her baby. An I told her that ain't no man that the old man could decipher the 38- worth as much as these here musics, but she year-old scribbles of notes. told me it wasn't fo no man man, but her "I was wrong fore youngblood. I know six-year-old baby. Youngblood - that musta all bout this receipt. Or at least that day I been fo yuh." 25 "It must have been. I wasn't exactly liv­ of memories-the records, posters and pho­ ing in Brooklyn Heights then." tos. There in the corner flipping through the "Hey now, fo some people music is life funk records was a tall, bearded black man youngblood. I member thinking that bout with permed hair. I-le was garishly dressed yuh mother as I looked in muh cash box try­ in a tight '70s outfit of all white with a 5- ing to give her everything I had fo them inch wide silver belt buckle, silver necklaces slabs of plastic. She bout looked like her and a floppy, felt women's hat with a pea­ heart was gone burst when she walked out cock feather stuck in the brim. that door with a couple hundred bucks. "Ain't you got any mo Funkadclic Yeah. It took me near a month just to put records up in here Blue?" asked the funky­ those records out to sale--1 kept hoping she looking black man in a deep baritone. \vould come back fo em. But she never did." "What yuh sec is \vhat I got." "She must not have had time. She died "Now ain't that a damn shame. I fly my that December of a heart attack. I was only black ass all the damn way down here and • n SIX. cats ain't got my shit." "No,v that's a shame son. But peoples "That's funny," Les thought as stepped do what they got to. Getting by. But yuh onto the sidewalk. "I was sure there were no gotta member, life's just a moment in time. other customers." And we go round and round. Yuh come to He shut the door and the bell tinkled. the right place fo memories youngblood. Blue put a\vay his box of records and sat Yuh gotta go back to go fowad's what I down behind the counter, staring vacantly always says. Yuh sure I cain't find yuh some­ into space, contemplating the last few state­ thing to listen to-maybe jog yuh mind?" ments of Bill Evans' piano solo and the "Thanks, but no. I don't listen to much quiet ending of the "Stolen Moments" music. I don't have a record player. All I melody. have is a clock radio." "That hurts youngblood. Diffrent strokes for diffrent folks I guess. Well yuh es slo,vly walked down the sidewalk know where I'm at. And where I'll be for a Ltoward 6th Ave. He had his head whiles. Devil don't have too much on me down, not even noticing the jostles and yet." bumps from the teeming street crowds. All "Yeah sure," Les said, moving toward the while he stared at the yellow slip of the door. "I don't get into the Village paper. much-stocks and all. I appreciate your help "What the hell is this," he thought. though. I've never known much about my "First this receipt arrives and then I talk to mother-Who she was you know? But 1 this old record dealer about my mother. don't expect to find out too much these Strange." days. I need to get going." Les hadn't thought about her in years. "Well life's a funny thing youngblood, I He hadn't wanted to. As a motherless 6- shore knows that," Blue said as he handed ycar-old, he'd harbored a feeling of aban­ the receipt back to Les. "When yuh least donment toward her. He'd been shipped spect it yuh'll learn somethin." from one foster home to another-each with Les took one last look around the store a measured sympathy for a black boy from 26 Brooklyn. He was taken in simply to electricity coursing through the third rail. increase the dollar amount on the govern­ He remembered. ment checks that arrived each month. By the Walking into the main room of the time he was a teenager he'd grown accus­ small apartment and finding the wooden tomed to the transitory shuffle of his life. doors to the stereo cabinet open. Three But he hated it. He cursed his mother for Beatles albums lying haphazardly on the dying and leaving him to be raised by one now empty shelves. His mother staring at foster family after the next. But with every the void with red eyes shedding tears. new bed, every new sibling, every new father Asking, "Momma-\vhat's wrong?" Her and every new mother, memories became scooping up his 6-year-old body and rocking less important to him. Les learned how to him against her shuddering chest. "Nothing shut the past out, almost ignore the present baby. Nothing. The world breaks us gently and remain focused on the future. sometimes baby." Her gently breaking and Usually he would have taken a taxi back vibrating like the shuddering of the subway across the Brooklyn Bridge, but he didn't car racing through the tunnel. feel like it today. He stopped walking at 6th Avenue and looked both ways past the rows But with every new bed/ of shops and their respective window shop­ pers. The subway didn't seem like such a bad every new sibling/ every new idea to him-especially at this time of day. fa ther and every new mother/ He descended the stairs just as the F train to Brooklyn screamed up to the stop. memories became less Hurriedly, he bought a token and squeezed important to him. through the closing silver doors. The train lurched away from the platform as he sat The Bergen Street stop was as it always down on the molded, hard plastic seat. was- pleasant. The sunlight reflected so He hunched forward rubbing the hard off the blacktop mat the surface receipt between his fingers. "Who in the hell appeared stark white. He didn't notice me would have sent this to me?" he thought. change mough. He was too focused on sim­ The train shifted back and forth over ply walking the few blocks to his apartment. the tracks as it sped under the streets and But so tense mat he was now clutching the Les found himself rocking in the seat in receipt, bending permanent creases into the time with the vibrations of the car. As the 30-ycar-old slip. He didn't care whether he train shrieked around a curve, the paper preserved it anymore. The impact of me slipped from his hands. He bent over to pick memory had been made. He couldn't forget it up just as the train came to halt at the what he had just remembered. And he had next stop and the momentum threw him to kno\v more. into the stainless steel hand pole in front of He fumbled with the key to his door, him. finally slotted it and then crashed through By the time he brought hin1self to his into the immaculately organized setting he knees the train had left the platform and the called home. The structured arrangement rocking sensation kicked in again. A flow of was an involuntary response to the constant images flashed over his inner mind's eye like shifting of his seemingly chaotic child- 27 hood-a resulting compulsive desire for friend of your moms. I know you got my let­ order. His eyes panned across the exactness, ter and shit. My bad on not letting you the perfection of it all. Everything had its know how to hit me back, but I do a lot of place and it was there, untouched since he traveling cat. A lot of flying. He moves in had left that morning. mysterious ways if you know what I mean. The blank envelope that the receipt had Anyhoo-I'll be on the ground for a minute arrived in was still in the stack of letters by and I think we should meet up, kick it about the phone. He swiped it off the counter and your moms and such. I'll check in with you held it up to the kitchen light trying to dis­ later. Aight? Chill." cern any markings. A 32-cent Malcolm X In his haste to listen to the message stamp and no return address. He sniffed it, again, Les accidentally erased it. As he then ran the tips of his fingers over the raised his fist to pummel the machine a paper's surface trying desperately to discover wave of exhaustion swelled through his some distinguishing feature that might body-from the toes to the tips of his neatly reveal the sender. But the questioning con­ trimmed hair. He lowered his clenched fin­ founded him and out of a sudden frustration gers and lightly pounded the counter, berat­ he tore the envelope in ha!£ ing himself for being so careless. For losing The utterance of a low growl escaped control. from deep in his throat as he rubbed his "A shower will do me good," he said eyes, feeling a pressure building in the sock­ almost commanding himself to try to relax. ets. He rubbed so hard a spectrum of bright He stepped out of his clothes, leaving them lights began to strike through the darkness on the kitchen floor. But when he turned on on the back of his eyelids. The change began the hot water in the bathroom, he decided to throw off his balance so he stopped the to grab his portable phone and left it on the force of his hands and opened his eyes. The sink as he stepped into the steaming water. red blinking light on his answering machine He let the nozzle drench his forehead with a startled him. blast of searing liquid and his knotted mus­ He punched the mailbox button, impa­ cles began to loosen. The phone never rang. tiently ignored the feminine, but mechanical voice on the machine and wished that this He took a long shower- longer than plastic box of transmitters and dials would usual. Afterward he walked around his work faster. He wanted the damn message. apartment while he dried himself and Now. knocked the water from his ears. When he Finally the beep signaled the beginning. came to the kitchen he saw the pile of A clamor of guitar feedback and loud drum clothes and his compulsive cleanliness drive breaks emanated from the speaker. "What in peeked out. As he stooped to gather the the hell?" Les thought as it continued for coat, tie, shirt, pants, socks and white briefs, about 30 seconds. he noticed the red blinking message light. Finally a smooth, deep voice that was "Well I'll be damned," he thought, "Didn't I hauntingly familiar called out, "Aight dat erase that message?" shit will do for the take. I finally got this He pressed the mailbox button and here nigga on the phone. Ay yo Les. This is immediately the same familiar baritone voice Eddie. Eddie Hazel. Look here cat. I'm a came sailing out of the speaker: "Damn Les. 28 This is Eddie, I left a message earlier. \vearing distinctly '70s clothes. Some, like Sheeit. Look I'm only in town for a minute the waitress in African dress, others in jeans so we need to connect. I'm playing this gig and shredded t-shirts. There 'vvere afros and out in Brooklyn tonight. You need to come perms, dreds and kinky long hair. Some with. Aight? The club's called 'The shaded their eyes with huge round sunglass­ Aphrodite's Child'-kinda freaky huh? I es and floppy brimmed hats while others hadda put in some major prayin to land that sported headbands or knit wool caps. name. He's got a sense of humor though. "H eah dis nigguh is," the bouncer said Don't you forget. Shit is kinda cool- ware­ pointing at Les as he waved to a man across house style on the 9th floor at 10 Jay Street. the room who was setting up a guitar amp Tell the man at the door who you are and on stage. Les tried to ignore the eyes of the that you's meetin me. Aight? Chill." crowd wanting to get a look at whose arrival had been announced as he focused in on the fhere was no line outside the venue. A tall black man whom the bouncer gestured I light sweat broke out on Les' forehead to. as the freight elevator scraped through the "It's the guy from Blue's," Les thought, shaft to the 9th floor. With a rumble and staring at the man. His tight white suit had clang the trip ended and the doors scraped been replaced by an entire white cowboy open to the loud, pulsing sounds of crackly, outfit complete with a 10-gallon white cow­ vintage funk. boy hat, white chaps and 12-inch long fringe The jet-black bouncer with long matted that hung from all over his body-a Sly dredlocks and tight Peter Tosh t-shirt Stone lookalike-but it was unmistakably looked quizzically at Les in his casual khakis the man from the record store. The man and button-up shirt. "Yuh gut duh wrung grabbed the arm of a nearby waitress-the flour me tinks." largest black woman Les had ever seen. She Taken aback by the muscled man's high was decked in a Zulu dress and headdress. voice, Les hesitated then quickly launched Eddie mouthed something to her and then into his name: "I'm Les. Les H arris. I'm try­ pointed at Les. Before she turned away, he ing to find Eddie Hazel." sounded a lion-like roar and jokingly made a The bouncer looked at Les from his biting motion at her. She laughed with her brown leather loafers to the flattop of his whole body and came over to Les. hair, finally muttering, "Lawd ah mercy. It "You betta watch out for Eddie. That teake all kinds." Then in a booming bullhorn nigga can't keep his mouth closed. But he tone that cut through the crowd, the speak­ told me to tell you that he'd find you after ers and the funk, he yelled, "Eddie yuh guest the show-he's gotta \Varm up. But you can be heah," and pushed Les through the sit anywhere you like and drinks are on the entranceway into the loud, dimly light club. house." Les immediately felt overdressed. Black She was much larger in person, Les women and men in tight leather pants and thought. studded jean shirts were dancing like crazy "Thanks. Do you have a smaller table to the sounds of the DJ-the only white that's out of the way?" person in the club. The crowd was a mix of "Sure thing baby," she said and led him folk with differing shades of skin color all to a table and bar stool in the corner of the 29 dance floor. "You'll be able to see everything Les stared at them in wonder. "Where from here. Whatcha drinkin?" are all these people from?" he thought. "I've "I'll just have a beer if you have one." never quite seen such a crowd like this." "Course I do baby, we got everything The waitress returned with a glass of here." piss yellow liquid and laughed at his wide Les watched her rear end switch from eyes taking everything in. "You look like a left to right as she took each step back little kid," she said. toward the bar. He was amused by the way "What's that?" such a large mass looked moving. 'fhen he "I said you look like a little kid staring turned his attention back to the DJ. He \Vas out at all them folk exorcising." shiny-headed bald, looked to be about 35 "Yeah. But these are the strangest exer­ but \vith sunken eyes and a dark, almost cises I've ever seen." skeletal face. And he had a seemingly never She let out a hearty laugh. "Exorcising ending supply of 45 after 45 of Northern baby. I said exorcising. But you came just in soul and deep South funk that-like a magi­ time to watch another. Eddie and the band's cian and the white rabbit- he pulled out of about ready to play." She winked at him a tiny, cardboard 45 box placed on the table before waddling back to the bar. next to the turntables. Gradually the DJ eased the dancefloor His tight white suit had been down with soul tracks and the club quieted so that Les could hardly detect the rustle of replaced by an entire white women shifting in their dresses and the whispers of hushed conversation. Eddie, the cowboy outfit complete with lead guitarist sidled to the lip of the stage­ a 10-gallon white cowboy fringe shimmering from his shoulders, the sides of his thighs and down his chest. The hat/ white chaps and 12-inch rest of the stage was extinguished as a flood­ long fringe that hung from light focused on the frontman. Extra noise disappeared. The mulled laughs, scrapes of all over his body... chairs on the floor, ice clinking in glasses of "Funny," Les thought, "the lone white liquor were all enveloped by the slightest guy's got the whole crowd moving." hiss of the guitar amp. A soothing blanket of Sweat was pouring off their bodies as if electricity feeding back over the exhalations the dancefloor had its own high humidity. of the cro\vd. But because of the dancers' heat, their ener­ The rhythm guitarist strummed an gy, there seemed to be an immense joy exud­ achingly simple 6/8 riff. An ever so quiet ing from them-a red glowing aura of minor arpeggio in a slow 1-2-3-4-5-6, 1-2- copaseticness. They danced as if there was 3-4-5-6 rhythm that trembled across the no tomorrow, throwing their bodies into crowd's ears. On the four, the drummer gestures of freedom and physical expression. cracked his stick against the skin of the Their eyes rolled back until only the whites snare echoing soul vibrations just slightly were visible as if receiving a musical trans­ behind the beat. mission from somewhere in outer space And then on one, Eddie sent a piercing through the act of dance. note that lanced into Les' skull and heart. 30 He sat transfixed-as the past began lasso­ Eddie was still there floating above the ing the present, reining in all movement of stage. time and space as if to try to catch up to the He hovered as if to catch an updraft future. The melody sang across the ceiling, and strike away, but the guitar cord swayed the long tones quivering as the guitarist gently in the air behind him-effortlessly shook his fingers over the frets. connecting, anchoring him to the amplifier Eddie immediately began to crescendo, and its sound. Sound that soared into elec­ almost to an unsurpassable limit as the highs tricity as the solo shrieked though the open ruptured into crying into screaming into progression, feeding back with every scream squalling. His eyes pulled shut as if the pres­ and squeal. Equaling harmonic pain. sure of his synapses might detonate. And his Gradually Eddie unclamped his hands from mouth twisted into a scream that was the frets and strings. He spread his arms impossible to hear over the glorious cacoph­ away from the instrument slung across his ony of feedback that shook the support of chest, stretching his body into a cross. But the room. The guitarist continued to build sound kept cycling out of the amps, bleeding momentum-fingers blurring across the into every molecule of air in the club. frets and the pick slinging across the strings. Sucking empty air in through the rear of the Ever so slightly the volume began to floor speakers and spraying it back over the come down as he bent the notes. Notes that patrons in a sonic wash. weren't even notes anymore. Not licks, not A wash that abated drop by drop leav­ riffs, not runs, but sound becoming birth ing Les' ears ringing with each metallic becoming joy becoming soul becoming sad­ vibration of guitar string. Anguish leaked ness becoming anger becoming death. through every note that floated into the Les blinked his eyes and in that split audience. Raining against hands and lips, instant Eddie's feet lifted off the stage. crotches and asses, chests and foreheads. Rising with each thumbed bass note, he Hearts and minds that swelled and exploded began to float. The rest of the band faded with the song's final decrescendo. out and he launched into a salvo of syncopa­ lt was a guitar solo that lasted forever tion - the unexpected rhythm patterns pro­ and then some. pelling the guitar sound over and back. Les blinked his eyes again and then for­ Rasping from clear to black. got whether they had been closed or open or "rloly shit," Les thought to himself. for how long or whether he had been "That nigga's actually flying." dreaming or if he had moved at all. But he Eddie's foot continued to tap out the 1- realized Eddie Hazel was now standing 2-3-4-5-6, 1-2-3-4-5-6, toes rising and squarely on stage, hunched over the final falling as if there was still a floor to bounce noodles of sound. Picking out the last, subtle off. His body contorted over the guitar notes of the solo. The past slowly loosened wrenching away tone after tone of sound the stranglehold on the present, relinquish­ until finally the effort seemed to overstep his ing the struggle to catch up for another physical capability and took on a life of its time. Movement once again crept back into own. the club. No one moved. Les shook his head and But no one clapped. The peaceful calm blinked his eyes again to clear his vision, but of the amp hissed until someone across the 31 room uttered in a hushed tone, "Go maggot Something wrong with that drink of yours? brain . .. Go maggot brain." The phrase Here have some a mine. I'm just sippin on spread through the crowd like a reverent some sizryup. Ha ha. Gotta keep up with amen and the end of the evening began. The the new jacks you know?" crowd quietly filed out of the club, dissipat­ As Les' quickly thought of formally ing into the night. introducing himself, Eddie thrust his glass Les sat dumbstruck on his stool. He under Les' nose and he caught the stale slowly shook his head in disbelief, picked up blueberry scent of Robitussen, but with an his glass and slowly began to swirl the liq­ unhealthy dose of added alcohol. The sniff uid. As he sat there staring into the tiny was enough to make Les feel queasy, but whirlpool in his glass, Eddie came over, sud­ Eddie just kept knocking back gulps. denly blocking the lights leaving his black "Uh, Eddie. It's ... uh ... nice to meet silhouette outlined in a stunning golden you," Les said thinking that Eddie didn't aura. look older than 25. "That was one hell of a "Les. My nigga Les. It's me Eddie. solo you just played." Eddie Hazel. I been lookin all over for you. "Sheeit my negro. Hell ain't have nothin Shoulda known you be sittin in a corner. to do with it," Eddie replied as his eyes wan-

32 dered from Les to a slim, light-skinned "They were records. Big pieces of black female in a low-cut dashiki strutting by. plastic with grooves. They don't make them "Damn. Every time I makes it back to Earth anymore." all the honeydips come out- they knows I'm "They was more than that to your here my man. Now that's something to moms Les." make a hungry nigga's stomach stop hurt- "Please Eddie." 1ng.. " "Aight. Forget it. You'll figure it out "Eddie, you said on your message that sometimes or anothers. I betta just lay it on you knew my mother and Blue told me that you then huh? You ever heard ofJimmy receipt you sent me was hers and I'm trying Nolen?" to find out more about her because she died "No. Was he someone my mother when I was young and-" dated?" "Like woah cat," Eddie said shifting his "Sweet Jesus no. What the fuck did I gaze back to Les. "Slow your roll here cat. I bother askin for?" Eddie said as he looked knows your whole story. Your moms died up into the rafters of the warehouse. "Course when you was six and you can't remember you don't know who the fuck Jimmy Nolen much about her, except for how you done is. The whole majority of peoples ain't know always felt abandoned and blah blah. Yeah who the fuck he is. A damn shame. Look, yeah. I know man. Life goes on. But I know Jimmy played in James Brown's band Startin her back in the day. Relax. I ain't seen her in in '65. Right around the time he invented a minute, but she ain't changed much. No funk. You heard 'Papa's Got a Brand New offense brother, but the man keeps a nigga Bag' right? like me busy-I gotta make up for some "I think I've heard of it-he grunts a lot crazy living in my time. Penance an all. But doesn't he? Not really singing?" what I'm a tell you is the most important "Lord have mercy on ya brother. You shit about your moms. Think you can handle know 'Papa's got a brand new bag,'" he sings some a this shit cat?" out the lyric. "The rhythm guitar plays a 9th "Look Eddie," Les said starting to get chord on a 'ting-aling-aling-aling-aling' riff frustrated, "this entire day has been upside and then the rest of the band cuts in. That's down from the moment I walked into Blue's somethin folk live to hear. You tellin me you Memories with that receipt you sent me and ain't never heard no 'ting-aling-aling-aling­ then your messages and I just realized that aling' guitar sound?" you were in the store the whole damn time "Look Eddie I don't listen to much and ... I just want to know. This not-know­ music, maybe I heard it when I was young, I ing shit throws me all out of wack and ... don't know. What does this have to do with and I need to know about my mother. More my mother?" than the pictures of her and me smiling "Oh Lord give me the goddamn together. More than the abandonment. And courage to change the things I can't. That certainly more than her selling a bunch of choppy sixteenth 'ting-aling-aling-aling­ old records for money." aling' strumming was none other than "Well damn nigga. You bout as uptight Jimmy Nolen scratchin the soul out his as they get. Those were more than just old damn guitar strings. Nigga invented the records dun ain't you figured that out? choke-rhythm guitar. And that shit was your 33 moms grits and gravy. She kept tellin me not ing else?" to sound like Hendrix when I soloed and Eddie looked back over his shoulder more like Nolen. That's the hella important and said, "Na\V cat. I bared all I got. That's shit about your moms." all \Ve ever can do. I'll be peepin you later." "Eddie. I don't understand this. ls this "Eddie. One last question. I promise." another thing I'm going to have to figure out He turned, ax in hand. like that receipt?" "Were you really flying during that solo? "No my negro. Fuck that damn receipt. I mean ... I couldn't tell, the lights were You done probly torn it up anyway by now. flashing and ... well I was sure your feet left This is much more important and it's easy. the stage." You woulda figured it out by now if you W ith a sly grin, Eddie looked Les O\vned more than a clock radio." square in the eye and said, "My feet were "That's somethin folk live to never on the stage. I told you on the mes­ sage. He moves in mysterious \vays," he said hear. You tel/in me you ain't gesturing upward with his guitar. "You'll fig­ ure it out. Trust a nigga like me and have a never heard no 'ting-aling­ little faith." aling-aling-aling' guitar He turned away and walked off the stage. sound?" Les looked down into his glass and "I need more than this Eddie. What's caught a distorted reflection of his face­ the point? Look can you tell me something smoothly abstracted into a swirl of hair, eyes, more ... I don't kno,v. Something more 'con­ ears, nose and mouth. He decided not to crete' about her?" take any S\vigs of alcohol. Instead he gently "Naw man. I done told you everything set the glass on the table and left the venue you really need to know." quietly, not even noticing that the crowd had "Please," Les begged. somehow disappeared into the city lights, "Aight," said Eddie, rolling his eyes and into the stars. He didn't speak to anyone on grimacing like he was hit with a sudden the street as he walked the 10 blocks back to panging stomach cramp. "Just go to Blue's his apartment. The exhaustion drained any first thing tomorrow and tell him you want feeling he had during the evening. He barely some Jimmy Nolen shit. Put it on real loud made it to the couch where he collapsed into and feel the vibrations. Okay? This isn't hard a deep sleep, still wearing his cigarette odor­ man. Trust me. And look, I gotta go. ed clothes. Everybody's done left and I ain't even get to smoke a sack. Damn I hate you hardheaded ones. They make these trips such a pain in Back so soon again youngblood?" the ass. Getting my insides all twisted up "Yeah, I need some more help with the again." past Blue," said Les as he craned his neck to With that Eddie headed back to the see if any other customers were browsing stage and picked up his guitar from the through the shrine of memorabilia. stand. "First yuh gotta get focused on the pres­ "Eddie, wait. Are you sure there's noth- ent son. Why don't yuh try look.in at me 34 stead of rubberneckin round muh store?" "Well yeah. He's the guy looking for "Sorry, I was just checking. Do you Funkadelic records. I saw him play over in remember that other customer who was Brooklyn last night." looking for records yesterday? A real bugged "Now I done heard it all. T hat cat in out looking guy?" muh store is just some crazy nigga who likes "Hmmm ... Oh yeah, dude in all '70s style and Funkadelic. And I don't know white, '70s looking stuff? Askin fo who yuh saw, but he wasn't no Eddie Funkadelic records?" Hazel." "Yeah, yeah. That's him." "Flow do you know?" "Yeah, he comes in here every now and "Cuz Eddie Hazel been dead since then. Sorta shows up outta nowhere-he December 23, '92. That's how." don't even set off the doorbell ringing. "Oh." Always looking fo Funkadelic jams. "Yeah youngblood. Eddie Hazel was 'Specially 'Maggot Brain.' Wonder how born in Brooklyn, raised in NJ and done many copies of that gem he needs? But joined George Clinton and Funkadelic when yeah, I never talked much with him. He he was only 19. Played a mean-ass guitar. looks and he leaves. Never bought a damn Sorta sounded like Hendrix. Yeah man, his thing. But diffrent peoples is always comin jam was 'Maggot Brain' off the second up in here. Why you askin bout him?" album. Crazy beautiful solo. I heard George "Just curious, he looked interesting asked Eddie to play the saddest thing he that's all." could imagine so Eddie played his momma "Okay. So what kin I do fo you? You got dying on his guitar. Ain't that some shit. more receipts from your moms?" And in one take too. The rest of the band "Not today. I actually came for music. I wasn't playin so hot, so George faded the need something with Jimmy Nolen playing 'em out on the recording an let him wail. guitar. ." Cried his soul out a that Gibson guitar for Blue's eyebrows arched into a quizzical 10 minutes and 10 seconds. Saddest thing . expression. yuh'll ever hear." "Jimmy Nolen youngblood? Now ain't "Are you sure he's dead Blue? That too many folk ask fo him by name. Usually sounds exactly like the guy I heard last it's James Brown this and James Brown that. night." Now how yuh get started lookin for Jimmy "Son. Eddie Hazel is dead as dead. He Nolen if yuh only owns a clock radio?" went to Lampoc prison for a while. Story "I met someone last night that men­ has it he was high on angel dust on a plane tioned I should check him out." ride, couldn't keep his mouth shut and bit "Who?" the damn hostess. Crazy nigga. Did so much "This guy Eddie. Maybe you've heard of cocaine and dust and drugs and shit. Yeah him? He may be a local, I don't know. Eddie youngblood. Nigga done killed himself slow­ Hazel - plays a really wild guitar." ly. He was only 42, but he was all bleeding "Eddie who?" up inside, faulty liver and all kinds a stom­ "Hazel. Eddie Hazel." ach problems." "That's what I thought yuh said. Yuh "Jesus. What is happening to everything sure bout this?" around me?" 35 ------

"Hey look son. Yuh probably saw some ders involuntarily sway to the drums. cat that looked like him-yuh know that Sound-tendrils of groove snaked around his guy that comes in muh store and yuh got entire body, dragging his feet into rhythm yourself confused with thinkin bout yuh with the beat. A beat so strong his head moms an all that. But ain't no damn devil nodded in time, his chin bouncing off his way yuh coulda seen Eddie Hazel." chest and then jutting outward. The corners "Blue it had to have been him. He of his lips stretched as if to snag his earlobes played that solo so long and sad that I in a smile that said he was finally remember- . thought he would fly away. He knew about 1ng. my mother. But then he looked so young." "Ain't no drag ... Papa's got a brand "Nigga don't be crazy. Ain't no such new bag," sang Brown. Then the "ting-aling­ thing as a angels. The mind can play tricks aling-aling-aling" ofJimmy Nolen's choppy on yuh youngblood. Don't worry bout that. chord work broke the barrier of the band, Just some crazy dream or memory yuh had soloing so on point. So on the beat. and now yuh gots it confused with the pres­ So on the rhythm that Les threw his ent. I'll get yuh that Jimmy Nolen jam and hands out in front of himself and shook we'll get yuh on yuh way. Yeah don't sweat them along with the scratch of the pick over this. Some good 'ol soul music will set yuh the strings. His body crashed into the store straight. Jimmy Nolen yeah. Shootfire he's a cabinets and stacks of records, but he damn fine player. He passed in '83," Blue shrugged it off like he was on the dancefloor said as he quickly filed through a box of 45s. and just happened to bump into another "Yeah here we go. James Brown on the King dancer. Blue just smiled, almost knowingly, label. 'Papa's Got a Brand New Bag.' That's as he watched the younger man lose himself what yuh want. Here I'll even play it fo yuh in the music. And watched him find himself on the in-store so yuh know what yuh's get- in the past, which didn't have to struggle to tin.. " flood Les' soul with memory as it had the Les, whose mind was still mulling over night before. Jimmy Nolen's rhythms came the receipt and Eddie and the solo, watched naturally and they entranced Les. He respectfully as Blue took the 45 out of the embraced them as he grooved along, dancing sleeve and placed it on the turntable. Ever so through the aisles of the store. Twirling and carefully he hooked the needle with his right spinning in time like he'd grooved to the index finger and gently placed the tip on the tune of his mother's heartbeat from the outer edge of the disc. Immediately a light womb when she went out dancing. As he'd crackle filled the store. "Just some record felt the song thrusting his little five-year-old dust that's all," Blue said. body back into his mother's outstretched A crisp blast of ten horns-saxes and arms as she funked around the living room trumpets erupted, out of which followed the with him, the stereo cabinet still brimming uptempo groove of the bass and funky with records. As he'd felt the song fusing drummer. Brown's vocals growled over the through his blood as it had hers, pumping rhythm and the bari sax honked on beat straight from the heart to his mind to his two. Fifteen seconds into the song, Les soul. Fleeing his physical essence and flying closed his eyes and felt his hips and shoul- away like a funky black angel.