We got nuttin' but love for you, Heavy!

Since last night and through this morning I've been contemplating the words, "I can't breathe. I can't breathe." Reportedly, those were the last words of the iconic Heavy D. It is said that he was in distress before he died yesterday afternoon.

My heart is filled with sadness for his family and friends. I've been pausing periodically to send them my love through prayer. It all seems so unfair. Too final. Abrupt.

The first person I called when I got the breaking news from allhiphop.com was Timothy Jones. Tim and I headed the hip hop conference at Howard University (1991-96) and it was the hip hop conference that served as background for me having met Heavy D in the first place, 20 years ago. I was president of the conference and Heavy D was one of the biggest names in hip hop. We dedicated the conference to the several people that tragically lost their lives at the City College basketball game that Hev and Sean Combs promoted (Diddy was known as "Puffy" at the time). I remember Hev being consistently gracious. A gentle giant.

I didn't know Heavy D, I only met him. I loved what I saw, though: warmth, skill, talent, adaptability, a bright light, and some serious dance moves, LOL! He was fun and kind. A peer, he was my generation's version of "Mr. Big Stuff," and he was also my generation's version of Mr. Good Stuff. Meaning, Heavy embodied a spirit that reminded us to have fun and to dance, but without being silly or mindless or irresponsible. And to be cool at it.

Life has an unapologetic way of reminding us what's not promised. Death can come at any time, whether you do good work or not. Whether you pray, meditate, work out, eat healthy, tuck your children in at night, give tithes, meet your deadlines at work, call your loved ones just say "hi," go to yet another meeting, catch up on your reading, say a kind word, vote, protest, boycott, fight back...or not. Death is the victor every time so how we live our lives matters. Abrupt transitions like this give pause to the living.

I'm reminded of the book of Ecclesiastes from the Bible. It is one of the sacred text that I turn to when things seem out of order. In it, Solomon contemplates the meaning of life. He takes a mental journey that is profoundly philosophical. In the end, we are reminded that, when all things are surveyed, it's best to live happy, enjoy work, and to have faith. And there is no way to have enduring faith without doing the work - be it spiritual work, intellectual work, political work, and the heavy-lifting work that is required to be women and men of good character.

Because I know that the sun shines on both the oppressed and the oppressors, my life is committed to preventing love deserts in my family and in my community. It's complex and it's hard work, but I'm not here to do much else.

Public Enemy at work. Heavy D at play. Bididilly-bididilly-didilly-didilly dee...or however you spell that thing he did. Hip hop heads know what I'm talkin' 'bout, LOL!

Thank you, sir. Thank you for sharing your talents
with us and reminding us, in your last tweet, to "be inspired."
We totally are. We got nuttin' but love for you, Heavy!

We wish you a peaceful journey.

Dwight Errington Myers aka Heavy D

(May 27, 1967 - November 8, 2011)

A few of my fav Heavy D videos are posted at

www.Facebook.com/AprilRSilverUnlimited

Why I Don't Use The Term "Brand"

Words are not simple. Maya Angelou said they are things. They are absorbed by people, they fill up rooms, they settle on furniture. Maybe. Like dust. Further, I believe that words carry spirits and intentions. They are magic in that they have the ability to transform, be it for creative or destructive purposes.

So as the daughter of ancestors who were enslaved Africans and as one who is a public relations and marketing professional, I take exception to the word “brand,” the industry term that is so commonly used to articulate one’s identity in the market place.

Yesterday, I was at the New School in New York City where I spoke at a conference entitled “Re-Mixed and Re-Mastered: Defining and Distributing the Black Image in the Era of Globalization.” I was a panelist at the Developing Your Brand and Audience Using Social Media discussion. It was targeted for media makers, mostly those who make films. The discussion was robust and I think invigorating for all of us.

At one point, however, I expressed my long-standing objection to the marketing terms “brand” and “branding.” I actually loathe the words and don’t use them at my agency. I get that they are popular industry terms. Don’t care. And I understand the possible dismissive reactions to my stance. Still don’t care. (I also don't refer to my ancestors as "slaves." Rather, I acknowledge what happened to them: They were enslaved Africans. (At the panel, no one seemed to disagree with my explanation, by the way.)During the American era of enslavement, Black people in this country were sold as chattel and marked, with branding rods, for identification and ownership purposes. So when I hear “brand,” my mind conjures up images of sizzling, burned flesh. I hear people wailing. I hear screams like sirens, piercing. I don’t want to yet I can’t help but see images of a great, great, great aunt perhaps, restrained and anchored by rusty chains. The “slave trader” is holding a fired-up branding rod. Maybe it has the letter “W” on it. My aunt is scrambling for her life - madly, desperately trying to dodge the scorching iron that is aimed at her left shoulder blade. She can’t escape and must submit. Her family is nearby watching her body jolt and wither. Her eyes roll back and she passes out. Her husband, her daughters, and her siblings are nearby watching, horrified. They would give their lives to have her released but they have no power that will save her in that moment. Barely able to breathe themselves, they smell her seared flesh. They also taste their own vomit. They are next.

--

I am tethered to my history and my ancestors are ever-present. Their presence is not rhetorical. I recall them as real live people who had skin and bones. I think about their feelings, their ideas, and their aspirations. I think about what they cooked, what smells lingered in their homes. I hear girls laughing, I see hands playing in the earth's soil...all of it. When I gaze at the moon on pensive nights, I wonder about what they thought when they did the same. They constantly call me by name. Always in my left ear. I honor them by not taking their lives, nor what was done to them, lightly.

As a business owner of African ancestry whose work requires that I shape and transmit messages, I opt not to use the word “brand” in my conversations about marketing. Of all the freedoms that I have today, surely I can disregard industry norms that don’t suit me. Navigating the marketplace in today’s business world need not be analogous to inhumane behavior. The notion or process of identifying and promoting one’s mark (marketing) is, in essence, about finding one’s own signature. At AKILA WORKSONGS, we simply use "signature" or "identity" to replace the word "brand."

I do understand that it’s common for people to use words, but not know their depth or historical context. I get it but I’ve never been that casual. It’s doubtful that my feminine energy, search-for-the-deeper meaning Gemini self will ever have such a superficial relationship to anything, especially words. I’m grateful that I am free to define my own terms.

Updated 11 June 2013

4 Deaths, 11 Days: In Memoriam...

In memoriam: I'm praying for the souls of my cousin Bubba (from Mattie Mabry's side of my family); of the grandmother of Lumumba Bandele, of the mother of Wm. Jelani Cobb, and of the grandmother of Marcella Runell Hall...all who passed between January 23 and Feb. 2, 2011 (an 11 day stretch). That's alot.

Something to hold from Kahlil Gibran from The Prophet, with the hope that somewhere in these words, there's a comforting spirit.

Then Almitra spoke, saying, We would 

ask now of Death.

And he said:

You would know the secret of death.

But how shall you find it unless you seek

it in the heart of life?

The owl whose night-bound eyes are

blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.

If you would indeed behold the spirit of

death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.

For life and death are one, even as the

river and the sea are one.

In the depth of your hopes and desires

lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;

And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow

your heart dreams of spring.

Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden

the gate to eternity.

Your fear of death is but the trembling

of the shepherd when he stands before the

king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.

Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his

trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?

Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

For what is it to die but to stand naked

in the wind and to melt into the sun?

And what is it to cease breathing, but to

free the breath from its restless tides, that

it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of

silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top,

then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your

limbs, then shall you truly dance.

When Spirit Leads...

Right after the Haiti earthquakes, Kevin Powell and I organized several Help Haiti events and this one in particular was early April 2010. As a co-organizer of the community forum, I was supposed to arrive early to help set up. I was running late and wasn't very happy about that.

I hustled from the train station to the Brooklyn Historical Society where the event was being held and for no reason at all, the well-being of Marie Eusebe (a good friend from my college days at Howard University) came front and center. "I wonder how Marie is doing?" The second question was "Where the hell did that random thought come from?" I had not seen or talked to Marie in at least 5 years. So I paid no attention to this peculiar sense and continued to rush to the venue.

I checked in with everyone, and everyone was on point: my team had set up the sign in/info table, the co-organizers were handling their responsibilities, the media crew was setting up, and all was going reasonably well. That gave me a moment to go to the ladies room, get my head together, relax my shoulder, and mediate on the people of Haiti. As a co-organizer and panelist, I needed a space where I could de-program and review my notes.

At some point, another woman either walked into the bathroom or came out one of the stalls. Because I was totally in my own head, I didn't zone in on her, but the moment I lifted my head to fix my face in the bathroom mirror, she called my name, "April Silver?? It's Marie Eusebe!!"

I stared at her in disbelief. How is it that I think of her just moments ago and she appears? In the ladies room, no less, I wondered.

To make matters even more phenomenal, she said "You are not going to believe this, but you ran across my mind the other day. Out of the blue...and now I see that you're doing this panel. How weird is that?"

I go on to tell her that for no apparent reason at all, her spirit came to me in the form of a question, as I was rushing from the subway. We spent the next few minutes marveling at the power of spirit and the realness of how connected we are. We were both amazed, but not fully. Actually, she and I shared thoughts on how our spirit selves have a way of getting what they need from our human shells, whether it makes sense to us or not.

Today, on the eve of the anniversary of the earthquake that devastated Haiti this time last year, I'm not thinking about - at least for this moment - all the political turmoil, the fraud, the exploitation, the disease, nor the chaos that has gripped the great island nation of Haiti. Instead I'm meditating on the hundreds of thousands of people of African ancestry who, in a matter of minutes, made their transition when the forces of nature shook the earth. In a matter of minutes, Haiti became the center of the world and, by and large, the focus was all wrong. The public and media chatter talked so much about what Haiti wasn't. Added to the conversation must be a loud amplification of what Haiti is and has always been. That conversation need not solely focus on an economic context. We, as human beings, are more profound than that one dimension.

Too quickly, Port-Au-Prince became a mass sacred burial ground, yet there is a message in that. We are reminded that spirit will take what it needs from this side in order to restore balance, in order to get us moving in the right direction. It's not a hard conclusion at which to arrive: The depth of devastation in Haiti, currently and throughout history, runs parallel to the gross injustices that she has endured, both from her so-called neighbors and from within. And spirit will not let us forget. Spirit will pull at us and show up in our lives until we restore balance...and get us moving in the right direction.

Tomorrow (January 12), Ms. Eusebe, who is from Haiti, is co-presenting a very special event at the Apollo Theater. The "Hope and A Future: A Benefit Concert for Haiti" will feature music, dance, and spoken word, but it is also a practical, responsible, direct line to offering relief to people in Haiti who have been terribly affected by the earthquake. AKILA WORKSONGS, Inc. is a Community Partner for this event. The Community2Community website explains it all: www.Community2Community.info.

Haitians are a resilient people and they have a lot to teach the world. There is a way to listen and demonstrate support in a way that is respectful and meaningful. Learn more via the Community2Community organization and join us tomorrow at The Apollo.

[From Put On BLAST!]: Guru (of Gangstarr) Passed Monday, April 19

If you are having trouble reading this email, you may view the online version

Known to most as Guru of the legendary hip hop duo Gang Starr (with DJ Premier), Keith Elam passed away Monday, April 19, 2010. He was 43. According to reports, he had been battling cancer for some time. Guru's classic contributions to hip hop music include the albums Step in the Arena, Jazzmatazz, and many other great works. For those who may be unaware, Guru, who came to the hip hop scene in the late 80's/early 90's, receives a great deal of credit for fusing hip hop and jazz in his music and for being a gifted lyricist. May the Creator keep him and bless his family.

[From Put On BLAST!]: Dorothy Height, 98, Has Made Her Transition

If you are having trouble reading this email, you may view the online version

Dorothy Irene Height passed this morning (April 20, 2010) in Washington, DC. At 98, she was a highly respected, longtime civil rights leader, 2004 Congressional Award winner, and the 10th National President of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. Read more from The New York Times: "As a teenager, Height marched in New York's Times Square shouting, ''Stop the lynching.'' In the 1950s and 1960s, she was the leading woman helping the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and other leading activists orchestrate the civil rights movement." God bless the Height family and her extended communities.

Put On BLAST! c/o AKILA WORKSONGS | PO Box 250553 | Brooklyn, NY 11225 | US

Manage preferences | Forward to a friend

E: info@putonblast.com · W: www.putonblast.com · T: 718.756.8501
To update your email address or manage your list preferences, UPDATE NOW
To stop receiving Put On BLAST! ™ messages, unsubscribe

Visit AKILA WORKSONGS' Online World!

"Help Haiti" Fundraiser (The Video)

Across the globe, the international community is standing up to support Haiti in the aftermath of the earthquakes and aftershocks that nearly devastated the island nation. Neighboring and related Caribbean and African countries, as well as other governments throughout the world, are taking extraordinary measures to dem...onstrate its genuine concern. For example, Senegal's President Abdoulaye Wade is offering free land to the people of Haiti.

And on an individual level, both adults and children all over the world are donating money, supplies, and skills to help alleviate this phenomenal crisis.

About two weeks after the earthquake shook Haiti at its core (January 12, 2010), a handful of ordinary people motivated by pure compassion, pooled their resources for this support movement. Nearly 100 people organized, hosted, and promoted the “Help Haiti” fundraiser in New York City on January 21. With less than 48 hours advance notice, the event promotion went viral and over $10,000 was raised at the event.

The “Help Haiti” fundraiser was an extension of the “Help Haiti” resource document created by Kevin Powell and April R. Silver. This video (conceived, produced, and directed by Byron Hurt of God Bless the Child Productions) gives a glimpse of why this work is needed. It also reveals “under the radar” perspectives not regularly seen in mass media in the conversation about Haiti.

For more information, please visit www.HelpHaitiOnline.org

For the love of Aiyti,
April R. Silver
Co-Founder, HelpHaitiOnline.org
Founder and President, AKILA WORKSONGS, Inc.
www.akilaworksongs.com

The Color Blue

posted originally via Put On BLAST! listserv (www.putonblast.com)

Peace, Fam.

Spike Lee told Kevin Powell last night that the Michael Jackson Tribute that he's doing (and the one that everyone is talking about) is STILL happening today at Prospect Park in Brooklyn (12 noon - 5:00pm). Disregard any rumor that it's canceled. There may be a little rain, but so what. More details about the tribute are at www.40acres.com. It's going to be a beautiful event!

WEAR BLUE!
As so many of you already know, Hurricane Katrina hit the Gulf Coast 4 years ago this past week. August 29 is a big anniversary date for that region, for our community, and for the world. As a simple but meaningful show of thoughtfulness, Kevin and I asking people to wear something BLUE in honor of those who died from, as well as those who survived, Hurricane Katrina.

Now, August 29 will forever hold an extra powerful meaning for our community. It is the birthday of our beloved Michael Jackson and it is the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. It is the day that God picked for Katherine Jackson to give birth to Michael and it is the day that God picked to trouble the waters in New Orleans. If you think calmly for a moment, you will see the power of the color blue as it relates to this date.

In Yoruba/African culture, blue is the color of Yemoja, an Orisha. Simply defined, an Orisha is a force of nature (or what I like to call "a piece of God Almighty on earth"). Yemoja is "the ultimate symbol and the personification of motherhood...divine, human life." From this energy, we are blessed with many things, including children and the "principle of everlastingness." The ocean, also the color blue, is the "largest environment for life in the world." It is there - to the ocean, to the water (the classic symbol of life and motherhood) that we go to seek healing and cleansing. Yemoja brings us clouds and rainfall because we can't be nurtured without the life-sustaining, refreshing properties of water.

But in life, everything has an opposite. When the dark side of our humanity gets to roam free in the world, dark things happen and life loses many battles. God troubles the waters, the ocean explodes, and we drown in its outrage. While the history books say that Hurricane Katrina was one of the greatest natural disasters that this country has ever experienced, many of us know that the story is deeper than that. The depth of the disaster had more to do with human neglect than nature. And we have Spike Lee's ground-breaking documentary "When The Levees Broke" for much of the insight on this story. Had it not been for the prejudiced abandonment of black people and people who were poor by government agencies that saw them as dispensable, then Hurricane Katrina would not have been as catastrophic.

God also troubles the ground we stand on, our dreams are disrupted, so we seek escape as best we know how. We learned yesterday, from the Los Angeles Coroner's office that Michael Jackson died from a prescription drug overdose. But many of us know that the story is deeper than that. The life and death of Michael Jackson represents a complexity that baffles most. Gone too soon, he (and the good he symbolized), left many of us yearning for a less harsh world. I think it fair to say, however, that his need for escape was unknowable and it appears to have cost him his life.

So on the 4th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina (and later Hurricane Rita)...and on what would have been Michael Jackson's 51st birthday, I hope the rain continues, quite frankly. Let it do what it do! The need for cleansing is a deep-rooted need so let's be rained upon.

Today, I will wear the color blue because I believe in the maternal, healing properties of water and the ocean. It will be my superficial way to celebrate the life of Michael Jackson and to honor the memory of those were lost in Katrina's passage. Tomorrow, I will continue to do the work required to make life more bearable.

I hope to see you in the park!

Lovingly,

April R. Silver
Social Entrepreneur, Activist, Writer
www.aprilsilver.com

REMEMBER MICHAEL JACKSON (August 29, 1958)
REMEMBER KATRINA SURVIVORS (August 29, 2005)

Notes on Yemoja from "Black Gods: Orisa Studies in the New World" by Gary Edwards & John Mason

In Memoriam: Earth Kitt

Singer and actress Eartha Kitt has died, her publicist, Patty Freedman, told CNN on Thursday. Kitt, 81, died in New York, where she was being treated for colon cancer, Freedman said. Her daughter, Kitt Shapiro, was by her side.

She was performing almost until the end, taping a PBS special six weeks ago in Chicago, Illinois. The show is set to air in February.

Her recording of the saucy Christmas song "Santa Baby" was certified gold last week.

Kitt was well known for her distinctive voice and made a name for herself in her portrayal of Catwoman in the television series "Batman." That role produced Kitt's recognizable sultry cat growl.

She worked in film, theater, cabaret, music and on television during her lengthy career. According to Kitt's official Web site, she was nominated for a Tony three times, a Grammy and Emmy twice.

According to the biography on that site, Kitt lived in Connecticut near her daughter and four grandchildren.

LEARN MORE and read related articles at CNN.com

In Memoriam: Odetta

From Yesterday's Put On BLAST!(December 3, 2008)


Dear POB! Family,

I'm sorry to share this news: Odetta, respected around the world as the "voice of the civil rights movement," has passed. Sonya White was the first person that I know of who shared the news that Odetta was in the hospital (that was a few weeks ago). Around 2 am this morning, Sonya sent word that Odetta had passed Tuesday night.

I've spent the last two hours reflecting on and listening to the words and music of this wonderful woman. I also watched the New York Times' THE LAST WORD, a 20 minute video interview. There, Odetta re-affirms, in a profound and intimate way, the importance of allowing music to be more than entertainment.

Odetta is not "a long way from home" now. May The Creator bless this great woman's journey during her transition.

~ april

~ In Memoriam: Oni

In Memoriam: Isaac Hayes aka Black Moses

I was visiting a friend in Harlem yesterday when I learned of Isaac Hayes' death. The texts and emails came one right after the other. Like most of you, I was felt a pang in my heart. "Back to back! What does this mean?" I wondered. During this corridor last year (July and August), the community was also hit back-to-back with great losses: Sekou Sundiata, Mzee Moyo, Asa Hilliard, and Jon Lucien. This time, it was Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes, during the same weekend. Dr. Barbara Ann Teer just three weeks ago. I'm not sure what our ancestors are trying to say to us with this rapid succession of death, but clearly they seek our attention.

A few friends reached out wondering where was the "Put On BLAST!™" for Isaac. I didn't send one yesterday because by the time I got to a computer, I figured "everyone" knew. I don't think that was their point. So this morning, I searched to see what light, if any, I could contribute to this sad news. I found Black Moses' bio on his official website. Dated 2003, it's eight pages wonderful! Even though I grew up on Isaac Hayes, have his music in the album collection that I "stole" from my father, been to Memphis and learned even more about him, I see now, after having read the "complete story," that I didn't know jack! Who knew that Hayes was an African king?!? As though his legendary, ground-shattering musical innovations weren't enough to hold our attention.

Besides loving those looooooooong, moody, soulful songs that Hayes gifted us, I loved the image of Black Moses. His image, coupled with the presence of my father in real life and John Amos as James Evans on Good Times, helped shaped my subconscious childhood definition of what a strong Black man was supposed to look like; how cool he was supposed to be.

Read excerpt below or click HERE to read the full story (equals eight pages).

In the spring 2003, one year after his induction into the Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame and a celebrated move back home to Memphis, the public persona of Isaac Hayes is surging forward with a momentum usually associated with teen pop stars and visiting royalty. In fact, Hayes is resident royalty for more than a decade, a coroneted King of the Ada coastal district of Ghana in western Africa where he is a member of the Royal Family. Instead of a palace, he built an 8,000 square foot educational facility through his Isaac Hayes Foundation (IHF). He is most certainly the only King on earth with an Oscar, Grammy awards, #1 gold records, his voice on an animated TV series, a radio show, two restaurants, a best-selling cookbook, and top secret barbecue sauces.

In Memphis, his five-hour nightly radio shift on WRBO Soul Classics 103.5 FM is still the #1-rated show in town in its third year on the air. The city has taken to a new slogan: "Memphis: Home of the Blues, Birthplace Of Rock 'n Roll," underscored by the Smithsonian's Memphis Rock 'n Soul Museum just off Beale Street, the institution's first permanent exhibition outside Washington, DC, and New York. On May 2nd, Hayes presided over the opening day ceremonies of Soulsville, the Stax Museum of American Soul Music, and a $20 million redevelopment project. It is located at a legendary address, 926 East McLemore Avenue, the revitalized original site of the record company where Hayes got his start in 1962. He has also been an integral fundraiser (and consciousness raiser) on behalf of the Stax Music Academy next door, a facility where he and others will develop and teach future Memphis musicians.

Soulsville
Isaac Hayes was born in the rural poverty of a sharecropper's family on August 20, 1942, in Covington, Tennessee, about thirty miles south of Memphis. Orphaned in infancy, he and his sister Willette were raised up by their maternal grandparents, Willie and Rushia Addie-Mae Wade. They instilled love in Hayes for the simple pleasures of country life. "We raised our own foods," he says, "we raised most of our crops, we had cattle, we had pork. Our corn was ground at the grist mill and we had molasses at the sorghum mill. A sack of flour would last several months. My grandmother did a lot of canning, preparing food and putting it up in the winter. My grandfather would go hunting and bring in a bunch of rabbits, so we were good. When we came to the city of Memphis, we didn't have anything to compare it to."

Memphis was supposed to represent new opportunity, and it did for awhile, as the 7-year old saw his first supermarket and enjoyed his first Popsicle, and grandfather found work at a tomato factory. But soon his health failed, he became disabled, and when Hayes was 11, his grandfather died. "That's when we really fell on hard times," Hayes remembers, "when I started doing the agricultural work like picking cotton." Ironically, his stately home today in East Memphis looks out on those same fields where cotton grew for nearly two centuries. As a youngster he ran errands, cut lawns, delivered groceries and wood to homes for fuel, cleaned bricks for two cents apiece, and shined shoes on Beale Street.

Later on, working as a bus boy and dishwasher at a restaurant, "one day it was kinda slow and I told the cook, 'I been watching you, lemme do a hotdog.' And he said, 'ok, come on do it,' so I prepared an artful hot dog, stuck it up in the window, tapped the bell and stepped back, watched the waitress deliver it, the guy ate it, and it was cool. I started doing some catfish, some hamburger steak, and the guy loved it. I eventually began doing a little short order cook stuff."

To an adolescent, the poverty was stifling; combined with the self-consciousness brought on by puberty, believing he wasn't dressed sharp enough to attract the girls, Hayes secretly dropped out of Manassas High School. After six weeks, a delegation of teachers arrived at the house and told his grandmother the news. "God, I felt like I had gone through the floor, but they said, 'This young man has too much to offer, we cannot afford to lose him.'" The teachers gathered their hand-me-down clothes for Hayes, who resolved to stick it out and get his diploma. The experience left an indelible mark on him for life, and Hayes' dedication to literacy, education and teaching initiatives is an outgrowth of what those teachers did for him. Years later, when the State Of Tennessee honored him with a marker, Hayes chose to place it at Manassas High.

Hayes sang in church since age five, but stopped when his voice cracked in adolescence. Years later, "when I started back singing, my voice was in the basement." He was persuaded by his high school guidance counselor to enter a talent show, singing "Looking Back," Nat King Cole's 1958 hit. "When I finished, the house was on its feet, man, and I was a hit." Overnight the girls, even those a couple of grades ahead, were sending lunch invitations. "Career change! So I started pursuing music big time."

He joined the school band and learned to play saxophone from Lucian Coleman (brother of hard-bopper George Coleman). Hayes sang gospel with a group called the Morning Stars, doo-wop with Sir Isaac & the Doo-Dads, the Teen Tones, and the Ambassadors, even some jazz with the Ben Branch house band at Curry's Club Tropicana out in north Memphis. He started playing sax and singing blues with Calvin Valentine and The Swing Cats, and doing prom dates with The Missiles. He took a crash course learning piano by literally faking it for the first time on a New Year's Eve R&B job at the Southern Club with Jeb Stuart, "because I needed the money."

Stax
Hayes was finally graduated at age 21 from Manassas, Class of 1962. It was the year after the first releases began to trickle out of a new label called Stax Records, part of the Satellite Records company and Satellite Record Store that started back in '58, housed in the old Capitol Theatre on the corner of College & McLemore. Hayes had won seven college scholarships for vocal music that he chose not to pursue. Instead, he became adept enough at the piano to land a job with baritone saxophonist bandleader Floyd Newman at the Plantation Inn across the river in West Arkansas. Newman was also the staff baritone musician on Stax recording sessions and was up for a date himself with his own working group in late 1963: "Frog Stomp," the only solo single ever cut by Newman, was co-written by and features Hayes (on piano), the first major notch in his discography at Stax Records.

"During the time that I was there," Hayes recalls of the session, " Jim Stewart, the proprietor of Stax looked at me and said, 'Look, Booker T is off in Indiana U., from Booker T & the MG's, and I need a keyboard player so you want the job?' 'Yeaaa!' I jumped at it." His first paid sessions were with Otis Redding in early 1964, and Hayes was soon a ubiquitous presence at Stax. Not long after, co-writer and producer David Porter suggested to Hayes that they collaborate as songwriters. After a few modest starts for Porter ("Can't See You When I Want To"), Carla Thomas "How Do You Quit [Someone You Love]"), and Sam & Dave ("I Take What I Want"), "everything just blew up big time," Hayes says.

As writers (under the name 'Soul Children'), arrangers and producers, the Hayes-Porter duo became Stax's hottest commodity starting in 1966-67. Sam & Dave's "You Don't Know Like I Know," "Hold On! I'm Comin'," "Said I Wasn't Gonna Tell Nobody," "When Something Is Wrong With My Baby," "I Thank You," "Wrap It Up," and the R&B Grammy award-winning "Soul Man" were among some 200 Hayes-Porter compositions that became standards. For Carla Thomas there was "Let Me Be Good To You," "B-A-B-Y" and "Something Good (Is Going To Happen To You)." Johnnie Taylor scored with "I Had a Dream" and "I Got To Love Somebody's Baby." Mable John's one and only hit was Hayes-Porter's "Your Good Thing (Is About To End)." Presenting Isaac Hayes, his debut solo LP was recorded as a trio (with MG's bassist Duck Dunn and drummer Al Jackson) in the wee hours after an all-night Stax party. The intimate, sensual jazz-flavored jam session approach (including three 9-minute versions of standards) did not reach the charts, but served as a blueprint for future LPs.

Hayes' work with Sam & Dave, Otis Redding, Booker T & the MG's, the Mar-Keys, the Bar-Kays, Rufus & Carla Thomas, and virtually the entire Stax roster created what was known as the Memphis Sound. It transformed popular music, was absorbed by everyone from Elvis Presley and Ray Charles to the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. History notes that, with the exception of Booker T & the MG's, Isaac Hayes worked on more Stax sessions and tracks than any other musician.

On April 4, 1968, as Stax Records was finalizing its sale to Gulf & Western Corporation, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., was assassinated at the Lorraine Hotel in downtown Memphis. Hayes, who had marched for Civil Rights with King, was scheduled to meet with him that very day. "It affected me for a whole year," Hayes told Rob Bowman in Soulsville U.S.A.: The Story Of Stax Records. "I could not create properly. I was so bitter and so angry. I thought, What can I do? Well, I can't do a thing about it so let me become successful and powerful enough where I can have a voice to make a difference. So I went back to work and started writing again."

Read the full bio at www.isaachayes.com.

Rest in Peace, Black Moses and may God keep his family, friends, colleagues during this difficult time.

In Memoriam: Bernie Mac

Around 8:30am, I got the sad news from Dean Meminger of NY1 News. Bernie Mac had died earlier this morning. I didn't believe it and at the risk of insulting Dean's journalistic integrity, I asked him "Are you sure?" Taken in with nothing but pure childlike denial, I kept saying to myself that that couldn't possibly be true. That news was hard to take. Dead at 50...of pneumonia. Damn! I thought about his wife, the children, and his world of comedians. I sighed a heavy prayer and prepared to send out a Put On BLAST! once I was able to provide a link to the story.

The news didn't really sink in until I turned to the television news a few hours later. The pictures did me in.

I was a huge fan of the Bernie Mac Show. Bought the season DVD's and the whole nine. Often times when stand-up comics as raw a Bernie Mac get prime-time sitcoms, the comics morph into watered down versions of their naturally funny selves. Except Bernie. For American "mainstream" television, his show was digestibly raw. The writing was crisp, the momentum was solid, the family was distinctive enough to keep your attention (and they all looked good), and the lessons were packaged right. In mass media, we don't have enough examples of strong, stable Black men in a father role, telling it like it T-I is. All of that wrapped up in 'funny' made for one of the best comedies on television.

And Bernie's funny was old-school manly, sophisticated, but lurking at the same time. He pulled funny from dark corners and crevices because he said things that you just weren't supposed to say out loud. That's why we loved him. That's why this passing felt unfair. That's why we're gonna miss him something awful.

Rest In Peace Bernie Mac...but keep the party going up there. Comedy just won't be the same without you.

In Memoriam: Remembering Mzee Moyo

First published via "Put On BLAST!"
August 18, 2007

Dear Friends and Family,

I'm a little numb after having received the news of Mzee Moyo's passing. This is sad news to have to share today.

It has been suggested to me, on more than one occasion, that maybe I should leave my sentiments out of the notices that I send about people's deaths. Today, I don't know if that's a piece of advice I can adhere to. It just wouldn't seem right to not share with people how instrumental Mzee (pronounced "m-zay") was in helping to sustain and promote African-ness here in Brooklyn and beyond. And perhaps this is selfish, but I want people to know how instrumental he was in helping me develop my own cultural arts foundation. There are countless numbers of people who he has mentored and supported and I'm just one example. Even still, I think it's important to our collective well-being that we share personal stories of people who represent light and progress in the world. Mzee taught me a lot about life, and especially about the arts and activist communities here in New York. Though I was born in NYC, I spent my teenage and young adult years in LA and WDC. When I returned home in the early 90's, it was Mzee who gave me my first job after I left the public school system - determined to be some kind of entrepreneur. It was mostly through him that I was given the opportunity to practically blend my love of the arts and my burning desire to embrace people of African ancestry. When he hired me as Office Assistant at the International African Arts Festival (IAAF) - the organization he co-founded over three decades ago - I was able to do my life's work and pay bills. Though challenging, the ability to work for and service my community grounded me ways I probably still don't fully know. Beyond employment, Mzee provided a critical platform for me and helped me to broaden my understanding of the world. The fatherly, loving encouragement and guidance that he gave me, coupled with his insights and pearls of wisdom, plus his confidence in my ability grow within the organization and to contribute to our collective struggle, proved to be tremendously empowering and humbling at the same time.

I am not 100% clear on what's the best or right way to properly announce someone's death or to express one's sorrow...especially via email. Please know that my most sincere intent is to add some light onto Mzee's name and legacy and to pronounce my love for him, his incredible hard work, and his dedication to Black people. It's hard to be quiet when considering the scope of his work and its positive influence on so many people's lives.

I'd like to join with Basir Mchawi, via his official statement below, and invite you to attend Mzee's homegoing service. Basir is the current head of the IAAF and is also a producer and on-air host of WBAI's Education at the Crossroads radio program. Please read his message from earlier today.

It is with profound sorrow that we officially announce that Brother Mzee Moyo has joined the ancestors. Arrangements have been finalized. The viewing and service will take place at:

House of the Lord Church
415 Atlantic Avenue
Brooklyn, New York

Thursday, August 23, 2007.
The viewing will begin at 4:00 pm.
The service will follow at 6:00 pm.

The family is currently working out the details of where cards and donations can be sent. That information will follow.

Spread the word far and wide so that we can celebrate Mzee's life and give him a proper send off. Light peace and progress to the spirit of Mzee Moyo (Gerald Smith)

Basir Mchawi

In Memoriam: Dr. Barbara Ann Teer: Blowing Our Minds with Blackness!

A Personal Journey with Dr. Barbara Ann Teer

"We are here on this earth to learn how to be great ancestors!" I heard that quote from a Yoruba priest a few years ago. Leave it to the Africans to drop such pearls of wisdom with which we should adorn ourselves. The spirit world is now joined by Dr. Barbara Ann Teer, a larger-than-life proud Black woman who passed on July 21, 2008. It was an unexpected and hard-to-process passing. The news was heavy for so many of us in the "arts and activism" world.

A few days after her passing, I was invited to give personal remembrances, along with the another larger-than -life figure, Mr. Amiri Baraka. Mr. Baraka and I spoke of the relevance of the National Black Theater (NBT) and Barbara Ann Teer: he from the perspective of her peer, her collaborator; I spoke, humbly, of the guidance she gave me as a young event producer in 1997.

It was at the National Black Theater where I presented and produced my first "show." It was called "State of the Art: Expressions of a People" (Jauary 24, 1997). It featured asha bandele, Ras Baraka, Kwikstep and Rocafella, The Last Poets, Tracey Lee, Kenny Mahud, Jessica Care Moore, Tracie Morris, James Mtume, One Step Beyond, Aarian Pope, and Mista Raja. It was hosted by Rahzel, The Godfather of Noyze. Word got out the this event was the place to be. KRS-One even called me and asked if he could perform (no lie). And he did. Supernatural was there too and they rocked it! Savion Glover, Jared Crawford, and Raymond King (from Bring in Da Noise/Bring in Da Funk were scheduled to perform but they stood us up). I got BMI to co-sponsor, along with the International African Arts Festival. The Festival, however, was more than a sponsor. They helped me, an ambitious bright-eyed producer, stay grounded, for I had no idea how to produce such a show. That was evident in the fact that it was five hours long! People complained (a little) but something compelled them to stay the whole night, regardless. The house was packed and we all sweated it out there at NBT. We were not merely experiencing a "show," but a ritual, as Dr. Teer would say. We were lounging in our own beauty, affirming how wonderful it is to be in love with yourself, your family, your talent, your own greatness.

Nabii Faison was my hands-on guide on behalf of Dr. Teer for much of this producer's journey. All his technical direction was interwoven with cultural education. Every time I visited the theater or spoke with Nabii during any one of our pre-production meetings, he spoke lovingly of Dr. Teer, her relevance, and why this work I was doing was needed as a continuation of work done before me. It was an awesome baptism, of sorts. My mind could not fully grasp the stories represented in all the theater pictures and production posters and event handouts that I was being introduced to. At the time, I didn't fully understand the significance of the African wood statues and other art that filled the space. Little did I know what I career path I was taking as a then twenty-eight year old. I bet Dr. Teer knew...even from a distance.

I don't think I had much interaction with Dr. Teer until the night of the program. But she was guiding in spirit. She was a larger-than-life figure that oversaw EVERYTHING. She was goddess-like and here I was, this little untested "unknown" trying to produce all up in her space. Outside of being vouched for by Mzee Moyo and K. Mensah Wali of Festival, I had very little to show for myself. But people saw me working hard and my persistence must have softened them. Good people stepped up to help the program along. Word got out, and I as mentioned, KRS-One called to say that he'd heard about the event and wanted to perform (that connect came from Pee Wee Dance, a new friend). I thought the whole thing was a practical joke and started to hang up on the fool who was wasting my time. But KRS-One's voice is rather distinctive, you know? After about two minutes, I was convinced that I was talking to the Blast Master himself. Then I morphed into a five-year old!

"Really?!? This is really KRS-One?!?" My sweating him was shameless for a few minutes while I gathered my composure. I knew I made it "big" if KRS-One was asking for permission to perform at my show. Day-um!

As important, Dr. Teer was uplifting the event from afar, too. I learned that she was checking to see if some of her friends would attend. Dr. Leonard Jefferies came and so did actor Glynn Thurman. "What in the world have I embarked on here?," I wondered. I had grand visions for the program, but that was me aiming high. I didn't really know this thing could be pulled off. I didn't really know whose house I was in. That evening was a practical blessing and one of great symbolism. Dr. Teer built the state-of-the-art institution where "State of the Art," the production could live. The National Black Theater was a safe haven for kindred souls like ours. Clean, spirit-filled, and self-reflecting. When you walked into NBT you felt "at home." It's an empowering thing to be under the guidance of a goddess-like Black woman who is proud of her ancestry.

I had come to do several more programs at NBT. None again like "State of the Art," but important programs, nonetheless. I founded Co-Motion a few years later. It was a artist/activist organization that emerged in response to the killing of Amadou Diallo. James Mtume was an original member. When we had our first community townhall meeting at NBT. Dr. Teer was there...teaching and supporting. HipHop Speaks! was also birthed at the National Black Theater. It was a series of quarterly grassroots forums and performances on the state of hip hop. Kevin Powell conceived of the series in 2000 and I co-organized and co-promoted the series with him from conception to completion for year one. We started at The Theater with about 300 people. By the fall of that year, we tripled the turnout. Dr. Teer was at HipHop Speaks! too...coaching and guiding us on, either in person or on one of our insightful conference calls. She remained larger-than-life in all my work with her through the years. Her wisdom seemed unattainable.

I did grasp something, however. Something quite Teerian. I didn't know it then, but I'm clear-headed now: I was following in her footsteps not because this kind of work was something worthy to do. I was (and still am) doing this cultural work because it must be done! The ascension of Black people depends on Black people... so what are we waiting for?!?! That was the drive of Dr. Teer. We are entitled to the power and brilliance of our own institutions...it's an absolute! Dr. Teer's tone was imperative...always. She was not a whiner, but was bold and unconventional about her love of Black people. I have rarely met women more boldly committed to "blowing our minds with Blackness." I'm honored to have been personally touched by her example.

In heaven now, as it was on earth, her spirit teaches us to be more in love with ourselves. Thank you, Dr. Teer. Thank you NBT family.