Random: My niece and I would lay on the basement floor in Queens for hours just reading liner notes from the albums my parents purchased. It’s during those sessions that we listened to the best of George Benson and James Ingram and couldn’t get enough of a new group called Yarborough and Peeples. We were educated on Quincy Jones and his production magic, and saw the name Rod Temperton on almost every album out back then and knew he was responsible for writing or playing on so many hits.
We would read an album sleeve, and then switch. Those were good times. And every time I think about those days, back when the biggest care in the world was whether the needle on the record player had dust on it, there’s one song that stands out as an identifier: MJJ’s “Rock With You.” We both loved that song, and now every time I hear it, I smile. I heard it today, and this time the smile was accompanied by a single thug tear. A tear of nostalgia. A tear of joy. Because I miss those sessions. Those times.
Music, man. It really is everything.
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