When I was just a little boy 4 or 5 years old, with a nappy head, big eyes seeing everything and hearing every word grown folks were talking about, I found my love. Some say that children are too young to know true love, that they  have to go and experience life first.  This may be true for most people, but it was not the case for me.

My love, Soul music, called out to me early. I think my Daddy knew that I would be like him and be the best parts of him. The sound of music was always around me. LaBelle, Donny and Roberta, Earth, Wind and Fire, and of course Aretha. No black home is complete without a collection of Aretha.

My daddy was a drummer and lover of music. Most of daddy's friends were musicians. They would practice in our basement for hours and hours. The anticipation of them coming to the house to practice was almost too much for my little mind and body. I would jump up and down on my bed until they all got their instruments set up and started tuning up. Then, calmness would come over me as they struck that first chord.

Mama would be in the kitchen making sandwiches and some kind of punch or soda for them to drink. When it got overheated in the basement, the music would set you a ablaze!!!.  I would be the first one front and center: watching their every move, studying the art and divine movement of music. How it takes your whole body and soul to make music (soul music).

The sweat coming from Joe Trotter's head (lead singer) as he belted out song after song with the same or more intensity than before. Daddy was the one that kept the rhythm and the vibe going strong. Whacking out rhythms and beats that would make an African drummer take notice, evoking our ancestors to dance. My cousin Calvin played guitar and wrote their songs with Red. These are the cats that I come from-- Bubble, Damone, Gino, Raphael, and Big Herman. They all sang and played their respective instruments in a way that my 4 year old self could only compare to that feeling you would get when you saw that "big red fire truck" or that "curly head baby doll" you got Christmas morning. It was pure excitement.

My daddy's band was call "Amnesty". A young group of Black boys that were politically galvanized by the Civil Right Movement, The Black Panther Party and our great brotha Malcolm X. They used their music (R&B, Funk, Soul) to charge the people with messages of self love, Black power, and community. I've always held those memories of see them performing very close to my heart.

I knew that I waned to be a musician. I tried the drums; of course daddy wanted me play the drums and the guitar. But it was singing that captured my young heart and mind. The power to move folks to tears and sometimes being moved to tears myself by the emotional connect that you feel from the folks watching you get your life and helping them work through their stuff. It's sublime.

I recently discovered that Amnesty's music is still out in the world and folks love the energy and skill. This is a blessing for me, since my daddy never got to see me perform or hear me sing. He died in 2000 as I was preparing to record some music. I did get to tell him that this gift or love of music came from him to me. I have included some photos from my scrapbook. If you'd like to you can go over to www.stonesthrow.com and check them out and hear some of their music. It's funk for your soul.

(photos with captions)