There is a deal. And, here is that deal. I've been friends with and collaborating with the Otter Prince, Richard Powell, for nearly 10 years. While his gifts and his talents have always been appreciated, I have yet to publicly acknowledge something that we've all always knew: he's a bad motherfucker. He's an artist. He is an NBA All-Star. He's a gangster.
While working on the Kingdom of Leisure 10-year retrospective project, I've gone back through years of archive rehearsal and performance recordings and have re-discovered a hugeness. From Monkeyboy through The Great Escape, brilliance shines through. It's not that I forgot, but that I really had no idea what we held in our hands. Grenades!
Anyone hearing "The Floods of Lexington Pacheco" for the first time - anyone who knows shit from chocolate - knows what they are hearing. That's all set. But, it's fascinating for me to hear, again, the notes leading to today -- the honing of improvisation skills, the discovery of musical communication skills, and the development of unabashed confidence.
In July 1996, he told me that he had recorded some songs into the telephone answering machine, "But I could never play the songs for anyone." Oh, and there were some drums in his basement left from a departed group house member. Oh, indeed.
In April 2006, he told me to fly out to play a gig, "Let's back up Dan for the hell of it." Oh, and there are some drums at the venue. Oh, indeed.
As a songwriter, singer, guitarist, and producer, much respect and acknowledgement from me. Here's to the Reverend DJ Ritchie-Scratchy: keep following the calling. Stay retarded.
