Sheldon Taylor's Souls of Black Notes

  With Thom Bell's passing, another major player of the Philadelphia Soul family is gone. Having left an earthly footprint for eternity---I envision Bell ascending to an ancestral plane, reuniting with his departed comrades. His signature strings, French horns, sitars, and oboes trumpet his arrival.    My early memories of the legendary producer/arranger/singer/songwriter were ignited by his peculiar-looking first name--- Thom:  a cross between a West Indian spelling and an antiquated abbreviation of his birth name. (For years I called him  Th- om as in the word “thumb”).  I remember my mother's recollection of my little sister’s infatuation with "Rock and Roll Baby"----a Bell-produced joyful romp about a precocious child prodigy from “Bluefield, West Virginia” in "doodle-white shoes" who "never sang out of tune."   Even as a seven-year-old in 1976, I was keenly aware of Bell's music. As a second grader, I proudly recited (to say I sang it woul

Dig deep in the archives of Black music’s creative continuum and you’ll find a wealth of utility. Protest songs and get-money anthems mobilized and motivated. Certain records leveled us up and lamented our dead homies. We received messages in music and absorbed the power of love. Just as impactful were celebratory uptempo songs that gave us life that captured the rhythm of the night. Here's a partial playlist: Headsprung (2003) LL Cool J Momentarily stepping away from his signature love songs and chest-beating rhymes, LL Cool J lobs a curveball courtesyTimbaland-crafted club banger (Timbaland/Ladies Love on the track”). Welcome to the spot where the champagne’s plentiful and the women get in for free ("just have ID"). You'll find L posted up in the back holding court. He's an equal-opportunity party rocker so ladies---no need to get your hair done and fellas---no need to throw down once---the GOAT’s got you covered. Family Affair (2001) :  Mary J. Blige Circular

  In a scene from the 1975 cinema classic Cooley High,  basketball prodigy Cochise (played by Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs) and his crew bum-rush a quarter party nestled deep in a rough-and-tumble section of Chicago's Near North Side. Peeling off his varsity jacket, 'Chise makes a beeline for the record player as teen-aged girls squeal with joy and jockey for his attention.  Lumdi, lumdi la........lumdi, lumdi la....  Smokey Robinson and the Miracles' "Mickey's Monkey" moves the crowd like pieces on a chessboard. In a split second----Cochise ends their joyful romp.  Wallflowers and dancers groan with frustration. Their groove has just been disturbed.  Strains of Smokey's "Ooh Baby, Baby" now fill the room. Cochise barks out an order: just turn off the lights!  From dimly lit basements, cellars, and rec-rooms, sexy slow drags sweet harmonies, and love affirmations of R&B vocal groups transported couples to a romantic oasis that was a world away from