When Musical Giants Are Called Home
Rest In Peace Angie Stone 🕊️
Ever since my dad’s impromptu passing in 2022, I’ve had a harder time grappling with the fleeting nature of the artists that made his generation and, by parental proxy, mine.
He was born in 1960, the midst of two imperial powers battling for control of the masses. Sit-ins, unjustifiable wars and the strangest obsession with colonizing the queen herself: the Moon. He was a tail end baby boomer and boy did he act like it. The man worked like it his job was the pump circulating his blood.
The art that emerged over the next few decades along with the art created by those born from that temporal turmoil was rich. Surely inventive and culturally impactful.
Time passes by, the artists pass away. It’s a cycle and it has to happen and blah blah blah, I’m fucking 26 and it makes me sad.
Frankie Beverly’s passing winded me. The earth’s rotation stood still in honor of his absence. I nearly went flying over the edge, it halted so quickly. It wasn’t just me. In Philly, LA, NOLA there were swaths of Black faces draped in white, jubilantly celebrating his soft journey home.
Quincy Jones’ death lingers in me, just as his musical touch stretched further than many of us realize. From his structural prowess in Michael Jackson’s career sound to his quiet expansion of Latin jazz in the US, Quincy was the truth. Listening to the range of his discography is awe inspiring and I highly recommend encourage y’all to dig a bit into his pen.
Then there’s Angie Stone. Of course she is known and loved. Her earthy, neo-soul/R&B vibe was a piece of the mahogany brown soundscape that created me. Her songs carry the taste of Sunday lunch at old country buffet after church. Smells like the familiarity of Shae butter but more reminiscent of Jergen’s Shae infused body lotion. Culturally familiar. She was warm and raw and as an adult child, understanding her music helps me give my mother grace.
If you are not familiar with Angie Stone…you may not have made it this far in the article. If you have, please give her music a listen. It is in the infinite sound waves that her legacy is able to continue. Please give her the immortal life she deserves through her memory.
It is difficult to see the artists that are your parent’s contemporaries slip into the inevitable destiny of us all. It’s a reminder that we all must transition at one point or another. Just as Angie Stone, Quincy Jones, and Frankie Beverly I will continue to uphold the legacy of those who made me through the art I bestow…Imma still be sad when some die though.
~ Carma </3
This piece was very impromptu, I wrote it on the train ride home and I cried a lot while writing it. Thank you Substack for giving me the space to curate my thoughts cohesively to communicate with anyone willing to listen. I hope it resonates in any way possible.
If you like this piece, here’s a few others you may enjoy:
Club Music Bangs, Stop Being a Hater
Soundtrack to this piece. Just listen on repeat til you’re done. x
Habari Gani? Kuumba (Creativity)!
…And happy New Year’s Eve. What a blessing it is to have these two days over lap with one another. As we bring 2024 to a close we are able to think about our own sense of creativity we work to bring into the New Year.
I was watching Luther's documentary the other day and thinking about how voices like his, and Roberta's, and Frankie's, and so many more will just never exist again. Classic R&B is something sacred to our culture, it really was the soundtrack to so many childhoods, even those who weren't alive when the music was made. I have a kid now and I feel like he won't have this same kind of soulful connection to R&B like I did growing up, and that's kinda sad!
I'm sorry my girl.
This is how I felt when Aretha Franklin passed away. Her Greatest Hits Album stayed on repeat in our house. I can remember my mum's first apartment after she moved out of my nana's house. It was 2 floors and she had a room in which she did hair and it was RED! LOL and I begged her to let me paint my room red, and she refused (which, good call, but devastating at the time). Anyway...
I specifically recall every song off that album and believing that I, in fact, sounded as good as Ms. Franklin and that's the kind of confidence you need as a child. I even sung "RESPECT" to audition for a school play in grade 7... LOL again... the confidence.
But ya, it really does do something to you. All of a sudden this person who was integral in creating who and how you are today is not there anymore. You'll not have the chance to meet them at a random restaurant or see/hear them in concert... it's a crazy thing.
I hope you take some time for yourself, frfr... take a bath if you can; cry into the water -- it helps.