Sheldon Taylor's Souls of Black Notes

                                 "Earth rotates/time won't stop/lyrics on vicious beats/ I drop"  ---Ecstasy "Day to Day" (1991) As 2020 fades into the abyss, it refuses to go peacefully. Intent on snatching as many souls as possible, this year's treacherous reach has no limitations. Hemingway's somber ode to fatality comes to mind: "any mans death diminishes me , because I am involved in Mankinde ; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee ." Paired with ominous keys (replayed on Whodini's 1986 How Dare You) from Sonata No. 2 in B-Flat Minor (skip to 16:42 ), Hemingway and Chopin's unlikely union make for a chilling soundtrack. This time the bell tolls for John "Ecstacy" Fletcher, one third of hip hop supergroup Whodini.  Before Jay-Z, Kane, and Biggie, it was Whodini were Brooklyn's original Kings of New York. Thriving in the mid-80s before hip hop became the global phenomenon it

                                                                                                     As I reflect on Gerald Levert's career, two words come to mind: legacy unfulfilled. His untimely death evokes the tragic passing of Otis Redding and Michael Jackson. Redding was the King of Soul hovering at the cusp of superstardom having conquered the international market and the hippie love crowd. Jackson was the King of Pop mapping out 50 concerts to restore his liquidity, erase debt and then walk off into the sunset with his publishing intact.  Levert also had a vision. Rescue traditional R&B from the clutches of peripheral obscurity that snatched the souls of Black performers turned ice-cold like cadavers laid out on a slab of indifference, a bitter memory of what could have been. Wielding his talents like John Henry's hammer, Levert toiled heavily to chip away the granite of indifference one piece at a time.     Redding's fatal plane crash extinguished his l

  Extinction Level Event 2: The Wrath of God finds Busta Rhymes in top form, delivering rap's best album of 2020. Over a decade in the making, the Long Island/Brooklyn emcee's patience is rewarded with a modern classic----thirty years after his entry in the rap game as a member of 90s group Leaders of the New School and nearly 25 years after his durable solo career jump-off.  No stranger to the hip hop stratosphere, Busta Rhymes racked up consecutive gold and platinum albums for a decade--- The Coming, When Disaster Strikes, Extinction Level Event (Final World Front), Anarchy, It Ain't Safe No More and Big Bang. Besides massive record sales, these albums had a couple things in common---cryptic titles and a chock full of hits. Busta and ELE2's producers deliver a powerful rap album that echo masterworks from music's past ---Thriller, Songs in the Key of Life, The Chronic , Mama Said Knock You Out and It Takes A Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back . Lest you think I

                                 Watching the bubble burst during Game 6 of the NBA Finals, a mental loop of LL Cool J's 1990 vintage album cut The Power of God was on endless repeat in my brain: Never before was a man so far behind/and came back to rule for a long time .  LL's lyrical offering to the Most High laid at the metaphoric altar took on a new meaning for me while pondering the infinite dominance of another (earthly) king---LeBron Raymone James. Fourteen playoff appearances and four championship rings in seventeen years still hasn't silenced criticism from naysayers continuing to rain down like manna from heaven.  For many critics, LBJ's hefty statistical bridge is constructed from a weak foundation---A less physical league diluted by kinship between opposing players. Team stacking. Franchise hopping. Truth be told, James isn't the first athlete viewed with skepticism for taking the road less traveled.  For seven straight seasons Eric Dickerson was the be

                                                                                                                                                    "Understand while you dance"                                               --- Kenny Gamble: Message in the Music (1976) Circa 1986-87, Christian conservatism offered America a respite from strident 60s and 70s liberalism. Libya and Palestine were considered global pariahs. East and West were locked in a battle between good and evil. In the midst of conflict, 17-year-old William Michael Griffin from Wyandanch, Long Island forged a new identity inspired by Egypt's spiritual deity (Amen-Ra) and its ancient name (Kemet). Boldly stepping to the mic and professing his Islamic faith: all praise due to Allah/and that's a blessin.'   Forever known as Rakim, he would cast an influential shadow over rap music.            A few towns over in Roosevelt, a 26-year-old Carlton Ridenour aka Chuck D was doing the same with