Gerald McCorkle, I met the first year I was married to Renee. I was a microfilm photographer for the National Archives. Conversing with Gerald broadened my horizons. He was already ten years into his marriage, had a home and a perspective on life as a Black man that engaged my quest to fit in the work place at a young age. I remarked to myself then how elegant he was, and certain of himself in an environment of strict attention to detail best described as a culture with an intentional adherence to the supremacy of being white male academics. Gerald had a keen sense of how to get what he needed without compromising his dignity and his self-worth was not measured by a standard outside of himself. He has always been intellectually challenging to his own designs and skilled probing into others. He spoke clearly with a scant accent that acknowledged his Black American upbringing and an inflection of a literate, thoughtful, and well read man.
His interest in developing young minds has followed him the course of his life. I saw that a few years ago when I was setting up my instruments for a small gig at the Potter's House in Adams Morgan in Washington DC. I was surprised to see him after a few decades there producing shows in that venue and recording artists of the hip hop genre in the metropolitan area. Today, he friended (what a word) me on Facebook.
The first thing I saw on his page intrigued me. It was a picture, or a doctored photo of a young Black man, EJ Green, all 'tatted up', both hands up 'giving the bird' (middle finger up) with a studied look of disdain a lot of young Black cats, and millions of people the world around accept as the stance of Black men from the 'hood. The young man was seeking affirmations about the picture because it was to be his album cover for a new project. The only response came from an obviously young cat who simply said, "Get me hipp." (whatever that means I don't know). I had to respond.
Little brother, the image leaves me with a profound let down, a deep sadness unattached to hope. The art work is deeply immersed in the crudeness of a dejected spirit without hope. I know a lot of young cats wallow in it, but it goes against the African tradition of sound, movement and color.
It is from a profound source artists, poets, musicians, writers come from, but the responsibilities of the creative people has been to uplift consciousness, even in anger, from the deeper levels of lower expectations into the higher rungs, where things get done, where life is formed and vision is raised.
I started out professionally as a musician in North Africa at the tender, but exciting age of 19. Tutored by older cats the first things they taught me I just shared with you. Actually, the magic of music and my parent's lives taught me that. But, the deepest lesson was the 'how' of the art of translating Spirit through my physical body into sound. At this level of performance every genre of music from anywhere in the world I played music from fundamentally transformed (in this order) me, the listener, and the worlds around us seen and unseen! You see the momentum of sound joins other sounds creating a vortex of sensual and explosive and powerful and penetrating probes into the place all music comes from. Every expression is a real experience accessible to any life form, and any form of art and music. I know it isn't an American approach to sound, but here in the States the best of musicians, and the masters come to this place in every genre.
My word to you, young blood, is to arise. You obviously come from the same place the masters come from.
- Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 1.25.14
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An hour or so later I re-visited his page because it is on Gerald's wall and my contribution was deleted, and in its place he wrote. "Sir, I don't know you so can you delete this shit off my page?!"
"Pity, young man, that you know so little about the business of music, and exchange. It will cost you in this business to be narrow in perspective confining yourself to the small circle of people you know. You are trying to get into the music game with your eyes closed. I am sorry for what you don't know, and are unwilling to know. I gave you gift... And I was interested in hearing your music."
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| "I wish I could tell my mom that I love her everyday. I think about her as much as she probaly thinks about me. I mean, hell, I would think about my firstborn... I don't live with regrets, just wish I did things differently because you don't learn from regrets, only mistakes. Having said that... I wish our relationship was different and not where it is today. (You are a beautiful woman, mama)" - Ej Green, August 12, 2013 |
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