Soulful Saturday - Rene and Angela

Ah, it has been so long. I have no issue in saying that since April 21, 2016 I haven't really been feeling like posting music. It is hard to see your idols pass away. Y'all remember that song "American Pie" by Don McLean? Truly, that cold day in April was the day the music died a bit for me. I was not even a week out of the hospital after having my daughter and the news of Prince's passing was soul crushing. Soul.Crushing. You know why? Because I often use music to get through shit. Rough times, happy times, death, birth, school... life. We all have a life soundtrack... and Prince is in heavy rotation in my soundtrack. So after thinking about it and taking a considerable amount of time off from my Soulful Saturday gig, I am back... because somebody might need a few songs for their life soundtrack.

So for today: Rene and Angela. Dynamic Duo of 80s greatness! Big hair, a Jheri Curl and soulful lyrics-- what's not to love? Their videos are everything that the 80s represent-- shoulder pads, glitter electronic sound, makeup applied with a heavy hand. Their songs have been sampled... so you have heard parts of these songs before. Some songs have been remade by a couple of R&B singers-- y'all already know that I love originals. Rene and Angela definitely had some bangers... here are some songs for your life soundtrack. Let's get after it! 

My First Love

**A tarnished ring, on a tarnished chain** That high note... Get it, Angela!!



You Don't Have To Cry

Also known as the original Ride or Die Anthem. This love song is serious, y'all hear me-- and the rain in the background? Killing it.

 

I'll Be Good

This song was heavily sampled in the 90s. The original is an 80s classic.

The Death of an Icon - Prince

It's been seven hours and thirteen days... since you took your love away.

Almost two weeks ago the world lost an icon and I have been unable to process that loss or write anything about it until now. I don't use the word icon loosely. I know most people do, but the title belongs to Prince. A music icon that legends are written about. An all encompassing beautiful force. A true work of art. I knew it would happen, but it pisses me off that in less than two weeks most people aren't talking about him anymore. Well, they are talking about the fact that he may or may not have had a will. They are talking about whether he had a drug problem. But not many people are talking about what he would want us to talk about... his music. A catalog UNMATCHED.

On a personal level, it wasn't JUST the music that made me love Prince. It was that supreme confidence that he had. Listen, maybe it was because he was short. Maybe it was because he was so unapologetically himself. I'm not sure exactly what it was but from the first bar of the first song that I heard, I was hooked. Age 8. 30 years...the love grew. I mean how could you NOT love a man that is secure enough to wear eyeliner and mascara (after the 80s)? How could you not love a man secure enough to give whole concerts in heels taller than ones that line my closet/whose hairstyles put most women to shame? How could you NOT love a man that routinely featured women in his groups-- as lead singers, lead guitarists, saxophone players, keyboard players and drummers? How could you NOT love a man that was (by most accounts) a self taught musical genius and was a perfectionist about what represented him? How could you not? A man that gave us the most beautiful love song ever (it is Adore, by the way, and no... you don't want to argue with me about that). A man that exuded self confidence (hello, ass out chaps); a man that was Black... and proud.

You know how you can figure out who a true fan is? It is actually easy-- they know more than just the top 40 (popular) hits by a person. They know more than the first album. They know the B-sides that most people have never heard of. They aren't mad that his songs aren't on youtube because they have already PAID for them. These are the people that will remember exactly where they were when they heard that Prince was found unresponsive at Paisley Park. Those same people will know where Paisley Park IS and what it IS. Those same folks will have silently shed tears for their lost friend. Friend... because the music made you realize some shit about yourself. Friend... because the music got you through some shit. Some tough shit. Some world ending shit. Or some new love shit. Or some new beginning shit. Friend... because we realized a long time ago that all of Prince's songs weren't about sex. And some of the ones about sex were about so much more. Friend... because he helped orchestrate the soundtrack of the life you continue to live. Friend... because he lives on through you and the music he left behind. Friend.

How do you say goodbye to a friend?

Soulful Saturday - In Memoriam

This year has been rough. Lefty and I were talking yesterday and I recounted that in the last 9 weeks, three people that I have known well have passed away-- two of them were my age. You know, that is a lot... and those feelings led to this entry. 2015 has not spared musicians either. This week the world lost a genius. Someone who receives heavy play on my iPod-- the incomparable B.B. King.

Lefty told me yesterday that it is sad when someone passes away, but the good part (if there is one) is that people remember good things; we tell stories and reminisce. And I guess that is true. You don't really think of it at the time, because you are hurting, but remembering the good times is what gets us through.

Here are three giants that we lost this year... and their biggest hits.


B.B. King - The Thrill is Gone



Ben E. King - Stand By Me





Percy Sledge - When A Man Loves a Woman

**One of my most favorite songs, ever**

The Loss of A Giant - Dr. Maya Angelou

Today, when I was at work, I was presented with the saddest news I have heard in a few weeks. Dr. Maya Angelou passed away this morning. I am not very emotional and while I am sad that people pass away, I don't usually show that sadness with tears. Today was no exception, but I did take some time to examine why the passing of a woman I had never met would affect me so deeply.

The answer I came up with was this: I did know her. Not in the conventional way, I guess, but I did know her. She examined her life and allowed all of us to read her deepest pains, sufferings and joys. I, like almost everyone else, read I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings and cheered for a girl that did not yet know she was hero. It was easy to gobble up the words on her pages-- they seemed to leap off the page at certain points. You could read her words, close your eyes and smell the apple blossoms and dirt roads of backwoods Arkansas. She made you question traditional thoughts of beauty, made you see the dark side of "family," made you hate, love and empathize... all in one book.

I remember the first time I read that book-- I remember the last. I was going through a rough time. There is nothing like reading about someone else's nightmare... it makes yours seem so small. I remember standing up in front of peers at a church youth conference, reciting Phenomenal Woman and thinking to myself that the MOST self assured woman had to be responsible for this magical poetry. And she was magical. She led us through her life, like dogs on leashes on a long walk, pausing at every change in scenery. And we were eager to be led. We ate it up; we consumed HER. And it was life giving.

It is so odd that her passing happened during my month of the 1950s experiment. During the 1950s Dr. Angelou was hard at work, outside of the home, doing what she could to make ends meet. Hanging out with influential thinkers, participating in a movement that she would champion for the rest of her life-- the Civil Rights Movement.  She spent the 50s begin the antithesis of what we think (or have been told) the 1950s woman was. A great example of what I would like to be-- then AND now. Rest In Peace, you phenomenal woman. You have fought the good fight. May we all have the courage to pick up the torch and carry on.

Sunday Funday - I'm a Believer

You know-- not so long ago, bands were NOT orchestrated. They were made up of people (friends) who knew each other and each person in a group/band had their own unique gift that they brought to the table. Someone was the bass, the soprano, the drummer, the lead guitar. You get it, right? They weren't for show. They were for music. That all began to change in the mid 60s. The Monkees were THE group that helped change that. They were a group of unknowns, thrown together, made into a group... a moneymaker. When it was found out that they didn't make their own music, the backlash was monumental, but before that, they were the hottest thing on the airwaves.

During the resurgence of the Monkees in the 80s (when Nick at Nite started replaying the show) I was caught in the upswing of new Monkees fans. How could you not love that show? It was like the three stooges (plus one) with music. My parents can attest that my regular play list consisted of the Monkees, Janis Joplin, 60s protest songs... what can I say? I was a strange kid, I guess. I have to say I watched the Monkees because of Davy Jones. He owned the original Bieber haircut! He had an accent and he was about my height (clearly this was before I realized that two short people will generally have short babies...) I swear Davy Jones and Ted Danson are responsible for my interracial dating. Yep, I blame Cheers and the Monkees! ;)

This past week, Davy Jones (dreamboat that he was) passed away. I was actually upset. He always seemed cheerful and every time I saw him on a tv show I would automatically remember him as a goofy teenage on the Monkees, chasing girls and singing songs...about chasing girls. This post is dedicated to my Daydream Believer from one of his Homecoming Queens... RIP Davy.

Daydream Believer


*Our good time starts and ends, without dollar one to spend. But how much, baby, do we really need?



I'm Not Your Stepping Stone


*You've been awful careful 'bout the friends you choose; but you won't find my name in your book of who's who's



Pleasant Valley Sunday


*Another Pleasant Valley Sunday, here in status symbol land. Mothers complain about how hard life is, and the kids just don't understand.

The Greatest Love Of All

I have taken a small break from writing. I have been dealing with a few things in real life-- playing problem solver for myself in the crazy winter of Chicago. I sat by when a few monumental things happened, writing in my personal journal, but abstaining from posting my thoughts here for you all to read while I was on my self imposed hiatus. But, the hiatus is over because there are a few statements I need to make that would serve no one if left to my private journal.

Facebook and Twitter are great tools for connecting and social media. There are days that go by when I wonder what I would do without them. Then there are days like yesterday- when social media allows people to express the thoughts that would be better left unsaid. I think I put up on both Twitter and Facebook that "I might be bitter, but some of y'all are heartless..." and I meant it. The comments that came across my iPhone when Whitney Houston died were just so... pathetic and attention seeking. Here's the deal: we all have a m.o. (modus operandi), right? My m.o. (the way I operate) is to point out the every day things that go on around me, throw in my two cents and move on to the next opportunity to comment. It just so happens that a lot of the things that bother me, bother others, so they agree with my assessments. There are, however, limitations to my critiques. I routinely choose not to comment on some aspects of people's lives because of some of my friends are going through the same thing, or because whatever it is they are going through does not need to be worsened by some snide comment that I come up with. With the revelation of Whitney Houston's passing yesterday, some people forgot to exercise their filters. So, here is the Hot, Black and Bitter reminder that you should not share everything you THINK in voice, text or video.

In 2010, it was estimated that 25 million Americans suffered with substance abuse. 25 million directly affected; upwards of 40 million were indirectly affected (think family members and loved ones). Nearly 55 million people in this country suffer from at least one addiction. Fifty- five million. Just to be able to provide some perspective, the city of Chicago (not the metro area, just the city) houses about 2.7 million people and is considered the third most populous city in the country (behind NYC- 8.1 million and LA- 3.8 million). If you add up the populations of all three cities it only equals 14.6 million-- a very large number, that would almost have to be quadrupled to account for all those suffering from addiction in the United States. I point this out to say, with a number that large, we all know someone who is suffering with some sort of addiction. We have all been close to a situation where bad choices were made, people were hurt, responsibilities were skipped, relationships fell by the wayside.

To make this personal- I have seen addiction in a person that I love. The transformation was swift and heartbreaking. I believe that if given the chance, he would not have put himself or his loved ones through this all encompassing, bumpy ride. I would venture to say that NO ONE wants to have something/someone that they just can NOT say no to. Something that controls their time management, their happiness, their money, their... life. No one wakes up and thinks "you know, I would really love to alienate the people that have always loved and supported me, so let me overindulge in this activity/drug/alcohol/sex/obsession." Since there is a high probability that we all know someone, dated someone, loved someone with at least one addiction, the comments that I read last night about Whitney Houston's stunning death seriously blew my mind.

In the early hours after anyone dies, speculation runs ramped over what happened, who did it and what will happen now. People look closely at the days prior trying to make their minds understand the loss they are suffering... and the dissenters make their appearance. Those that comment about drug use, drug abuse, loose morals, sexual proclivities and the like. People begin to take joy in the fact that the newly departed's life was somewhere lower than their current station in life. People like that. They get off on it. They shout louder and louder on social media so that others can see how "great" they are; what a great example they are; how we should all strive to be like them. It is pathetic. Yesterday, the music world lost a legend. I am sorry if people refuse to see that. In the wake of her death (the cause of which has yet to be determined) let me posit that maybe we should use this time to think about who we know who would benefit from our help, instead of our judgment. Maybe we should use this as a starting point for grasping the fact that the things we complain about DAILY are relatively small in comparison to fighting an addiction. Maybe, just maybe, this tragedy will awake someone to the fact that they have a problem or cause another to begin a non-profit that will help those struggling with addiction.

To those who find it necessary to slam dead people, I have a couple thoughts. 1- get a life. If you have to degrade those who can no longer defend themselves, clearly your intelligence (and power of persuasion) is questionable. 2- find a heart in your empty chest, I mean, really it is possible that Whitney Houston had thick enough skin to disregard her haters, but can the same be said about her daughter? Her mother? Her extended family? Could you give them a little grieving time? Finally, 3- when I was in college a wise friend once told me that guys with the smallest dicks acted like the biggest dicks... If you are acting like such a huge dick, what is small in your life? We all have problems that we don't want others to see. Shouting about someone else's problems will never make yours go away. Show some compassion, because when your time comes, it is what you will wish people will show to your family.

In the past weeks

So, as I blogged almost a month ago, Michal Jackson passed away. I, like most, spent a couple days reliving my MJ memories, watching vintage video and watching the fall out drama. I needed those couple of days to wrap my head around the death of a superstar, but after those couple of days the shock wore off. The sadness was still there because a human being died, but I was over hearing about it every 15 seconds. Yet, almost a month later, Michael Jackson (and his dysfunctional family) are still in the news.

Many other deaths have taken a backseat to Michael Jackson. One would obviously be Farrah Fawcett, who dies the same day as MJ, yet I could not tell you where she is buried, what her family did or said to the media. Weird, huh? Below are a few more spectacular people, who deaths have been out shined by the media circus following the Michael Jackson story:

H.M. Cummings (90)- died in my hometown, Columbus, Ohio. Mr. Cummings was a member of the Tuskegee Airmen, who were America's first black military airmen. These men fought racism and bigotry at home and overseas. Rough estimates (on wikipedia) state that around 12% of the pilots and less than 1% of the ground personnel are still alive. For a more comprehensive review of these history changing men, please see: tuskegeeairmen.org

Allen Klein (77): Mr. Klein was the business manager to Sam Cooke, the Rolling Stones and the Beatles. He was also an accountant and a record label owner. He bought rights to music by the Animals, Herman's Hermits, Bobby Rydell and Chubby Checker to name a few.

Oscar Mayer (95): retired chairman of the cold cuts company known for hot dogs, bologna, bacon, etc.

Steve McNair (36): Retired NFL quarterback who was killed by his mistress.

Robert McNamara (93): 8th US Secretary of Defense under JFK and LBJ. McNamara was also President of the World Bank (1968-81) and the President of Ford Motor Company.

Dempsey Travis (89): a true Renaissance man, a Chicagoan. Travis was a self made millionaire who made a name for himself by starting real estate companies and revitalizing portions of the South Side of Chicago. He also covered Chicago events, especially the Harold Washington era, through his writings.

Walter Cronkite: world renowned news anchor.

These are just a few people that have passed away since the death of Michael Jackson. Their absence will be felt and their contributions will thankfully be used to our advantage. They should not be outshined by the passing of a superstar- and they won't be, on this blog.