Channeling My Inner Rock God
I wanted to sing like Corey Glover.
A buddy and former bandmate sent me a link to a review of our former band, Congregation of One, in the Washington Post. It was for a show we played at the Black Cat as a part of “Sounds Of Southeast,” an eight-song compilation cassette we were on. All of the bands were rock bands made of mostly if not all black musicians. Congregation was easily the least heavy of the bands, with hitters like Chucky Sluggo, Upfrunt, and Pando (short for pandemonium) on the bill. We, to quote the article, were a band that could “rock in funky tempos.” The writer, David Mills, who would go on to work on Homicide, NYPD Blue, The Wire, and Treme before his untimely death, said our song “Gentlemen’s Hymn” was the best-written song on the compilation.
The whole idea of me performing with a band was David’s, the guitarist and person with the most musical chops. We had Chuck on drums, Mike on bass, and me on vocals and percussion. David heard me singing one day when we were waiting tables. David asked me to sit in on a set he and a friend were playing. Not long after that, David left town for a bit, but a seed had been planted. I started learning jazz standards, sang ballads, and returned to 70s/80s R&B. At my core, I’m a crooner; “Dedicated to You” suited me better than “When the Levee Breaks.” When David came back to town, he wanted to start a band. I was game. However, it was Living Colour that made me want to be a front man.
I come from a family of musicians and singers on both sides. My maternal grandmother had dreams of the opera before pregnancies and marriage interrupted. My paternal grandmother played organ for the church she grew up in until she was in her 90s. My father had an amazing bass voice and sought his fame and fortune in NYC post-college in the late 50s before Uncle Sam called. One aunt was a music teacher for 40 years; her daughter is a jazz singer. My brother played drums well enough to make money and opened for national acts before college. My sister sang in bands with renowned players, both nationally and locally. I played woodwinds from 6th through 11th grades before acknowledging that I was never getting that tenor saxophone I wanted. Until then, my singing was limited to 1.5 years of choir and a stunning rendition of “Put on a Happy Face,” in 6th grade that my father laughed about for years. When my maternal grandma first heard me on record, she told my mom to make sure I wasn’t “singing them dirty blues songs.” I took that as encouragement.
In 1988 at the University of Maryland, I heard Living Colour play live. They were out supporting their 1st album, Vivid. The music scene was buzzing about these black guys doing seriously hard rock (with ample nods to funk, R&B, and hip hop). They had the blessing of Mick Jagger, who heard them in NYC, and played harmonica on the song “Broken Hearts” and added backing vocals on “Glamour Boys.” The music press praised them as a revelation before the album was released. At the Rock-It Club (a section of conference space in the student union), we waited nearly 2 hours for them to arrive. The opening band, The Young Caucasians (check early Saturday Night Live for the reference) suffered through a surly crowd waiting impatiently for Living Colour. To watch the set, I chose to be late for a Spades game in the all-girls dormitory, which might speak to what my priorities were at the time. Then, the band started out with Cult of Personality. The initial riff, the volume, and the relentless attack of the music might have been enough to get my attention. I heard Corey intone “Look in my eyes/what do you see?/I’m the cult of personality,” and whatever I was listening to beforehand, was washed away.
Explanatory comma: In May 1988 the Billboard 100 contained the following artists; Prince, George Michael, Pet Shop Boys, Peebles, Terence Trent D’arby, Brenda Russell, Hall and Oates, Whitney Houston, Al B. Sure, Billy Ocean, E.U. (shout out to DC’s Go-Go music), Lita Ford, Midnight Oil, INXS, Kool Moe Dee, The Church, Poison, Bruce Springsteen, Richard Marx, Sade, and Michael Jackson. This list misses, DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, Keith Sweat, 10,000 Maniacs, LL Cool J, and the Smithereens. The point is there was a range of good music out there, interesting, amazing, and exotic.
But on the stage that night were brothers, in neon-colored, paint-splattered T-shirts and ripped jeans. Vernon Reid, shredding the stratosphere on the opening riff of “Cult”; Muzz Skillings on bass and Will Calhoun on drums propelling the group with jazz and funk riffs punctuating the head-banging tunes. Then there was Corey, in Body Glove scuba gear, braids flailing the air. His tenor voice, mixing sweet and jagged, with soaring falsetto on “Desperate People”. His inflection on certain words was distinctive—“you” pronounced “ewe” was the one I most noticed—as was the open-throated roar at the end of “Cult.” He was out there, unabashed in his role as front man. I loved it.
Once I started performing it was apparent to me, if no one else, I wasn’t that sort of performer but I thought I might be able to ape some of his singing style. I opened up my voice to more wailing, grabbed Corey’s inflections, to the point one of the other bands we performed with called me “Little Corey.” Over time, I learned Corey was an actor as well as a singer. Vernon Reid heard him singing at a birthday party and invited him into the band. Corey was in “Platoon” as Pvt. Francis, a soldier who self-inflicted a wound to get out of Viet Nam. I caught an early video of the band, him with a short afro reminiscent of the one he wore in the movie, shyly singing into a mike. It wasn’t the jaguar stalking the stage I saw. “You can learn how to perform like that.” The light bulb went off. I stopped hiding behind the microphone stand, prowled the stage some, tried to sing boldly and stay in tune. Congregation of One was no Living Colour and I was no Corey Glover, but we found our niche with a nice blend of original material and fun covers that were a little rock, some funk, and a bit alternative.
In other bands I got to do more crooning, but many of the folks I played with loved me trying to do my best Corey impersonation, so I kept at it. It was cool to throw on that persona, especially as he that showed off the range of his voice in projects outside of Living Colour. As it turns out, he has other personas, too.
A brilliant piece my brother.
outstanding writing my dude. keep it up please.