A night with…Roy

When I heard that Roy Ayers would be performing in London, I simply couldn’t resist the impulse to immediately get tickets for that once in a lifetime event (after all, he is a 79 years old music legend!). I wanted to see the man who nonchlantly incorporated the words “Poo poo la la” into a groovy  spoken verse funk/soul 1984 duet with Mikki Howard – yes, “Poo poo la la” seems to be part of a universal language and it means exactly what you think it means (and if you’re romanian you’ll find the song incredibly amusing on a few levels) – with lyrics that go something like this

“Let me kiss you on your poo poo la la/You’ve got to let me kiss you, kiss you/Let me squeeze you on your deeodada/You’ve got to let me kiss you…” It’s actually a love story of two people trying to rebuild their relationship after a long separation.

I’m not sure I remember exactly how old I was when I first heard a Roy Ayers song…somewhere close to eighteen I guess. I didn’t know much about music back then, but I was hooked on that groove. The song might have been “Running away” to which I could never get the notes right, no matter how many times I’d listen to the chorus, or “Everybody loves the sunshine” – not the version that features Erykah Badu though.

I remember the hillarious intro to that one:

“And the brother said he was gonna go to the Sun. I said brother, if you go to the Sun you’ll burn up. He said no, when I go to the Sun I’m a go at night. I said yeah, right. The brother’s trippin’.” and the positive vibes emanating from every note. No wonder that, back in the 70’s, he was named the father of “feel good music” and the only man who could tame the vibraphone and make it sound like a retro summer night on the beach.

Then, his music kept finding its way back into my life, almost cyclically. From once in a while, I remember playing “Poo poo la la”, having a few laughs and celebrating the irony of it.

Fast forward to 2007, when Talib Kweli released “Eardrum”, the album that would turn me into a longlife admirer. During that summer I played me some “In the mood” and discovered  extremely familiar background vibraphone sounds: Roy was there, working his magic.

It’s worth mentioning that Roy Ayers’ tracks have been sampled more than 600 times, making him the most sampled musician of all times, mostly by hip-hop artists and rappers such as Mary J Blige, Mos Def, Kendrick Lamar, Common, Madlib, Nas, Jeru the Damaja, MF DOOM, Coolio, Jill Scott and other artists such as Jazzanova, Etienne de Crécy, Masters at Work, Yung Bae & Flamingosis, Fila Brazillia, Blue Boy, Mousse T. etc.

Although he worked on more than a few albums alongside Herbie Mann, Fela Kuti, Gerald Wilson, David Newman, Jack Wilson, his artistic collaborations extend far beyond the confines of jazz and funk music, with producers like Guru Jazzmattaz, the Roots, Erykah Badu and Robert Glasper.

Last night, having the legendary Roy Ayers in front of me came as an unexpectedly bitter-sweet surprise, a mix of sadness for how time can degrade a man, yearning for a young, vibrant Roy Ayers that will never come back and the privilege of experiencing Union Chapel again (a Gothic revival style church dating from the 1877 with amazing acoustics) as a witness of such undeniable artistic greatness.

 

The opening act, singer/songwriter Byrony Jarman-Pinto and her band took the audience through a retro sounding musical experience with notes of latin groove, deeply poetic lyrics, moodiness and sentimentality.

 

Than Roy Ayers showed up in an amber yellow t-shirt (I have reasons to assume yellow is his favourite color) and a velvet green jacket, looking a little lost and having a hard time standing up (there was a chair waiting for him in the empty space between keyboards and drums that he would constantly go back to after every vibraphone solo, letting his band do it’s thing). The bass player would mouth the lyrics to “Running away”, “Searching”, “Everybody loves the sunshine”, “Don’t stop the feeling” and other hits, helping Roy remember the words to the songs he had once composed.

 

 

There was no “Poo poo la la” and I truly would’ve wanted to hear him play it live (there is an old Ronnie Scott’s recording, but…I wasn’t there). The moment I saw him coming on the stage I knew it couldn’t have been possible given the complexity of the song and his lack of vitality. And although I was left with the feeling that his hearing abilities weren’t great either, the man remains a music legend and he can still tame that vibraphone and make it sound like a retro summer night on the beach anytime. You’ll see. Just play any one of his old records…

Green Eyed Kisses,