Queen By Day
by Jen Farris
07.19.04

Sometimes I feel as if I were a queen. Not of a distant land, not with a prince in a kingdom, but a dancing queen at the world famous Studio 54.

Whenever I hear disco and soul grooves like Inner City, songs by Sylvester, Martha Washington, or dance grooves from the classic Michael Jackson album, “Thriller”, I feel like my black square toe pumps wither up inside of gold-wheeled roller skates with strawberry laces that form on my feet, my corporate khaki Dockers shrivel up and transform into hot pink metallic booty shorts with a white stripe border, and my sky blue rolled sleeved, Polo button up transforms into a yellow baby t shirt with hot pink letters forming the words “cutie pie” emblazoned on it.

As the music blares into my headsets, my 1-hour lunch break destination begins. The oncoming foot traffic is no longer in view because my body changes direction and rotates backwards. The wind no longer against my face, but on my back. I find myself gliding to my destination backwards with my back to the traffic.

“Bah-de-ah- bah-bah. What we need is a little more love!” is blaring through my headsets, the house beats running through my blood filled veins. Is that my heart beating or is that the music?

I am a disco queen. Living a day-to-day double life. My soul filled with remnant spirits of the past with bits and pieces of someone before me who danced and skated the night away.

The world watches me in clad tight fist as I whip my office into shape day-to-day, but I have a secret that lies beneath my skin. I am not the person that you see. I am a roller skating disco queen who danced the night away in 1974. The misconception is that I was born in 1974; but actually I transformed shape in 1974. Years worth of polyester jumpsuits and satin shorts were merely traded for a bare bottom and a rattle.

This person that the world sees is not the “real” me. I instead am a carefree spirit that wants to put on my skates and “roll out”—literally. I am a person that loves to get in the car and drive with absolutely no destination or cares. Daily I take the destination down to my soul for 1-hour per day on my lunch break thanks to DJ Talib Shabazz, Kemit, and Ron Pullman after laying phat beats on me. So until then, know that during my lunch break please understand that you will not be looking at me but instead at my soul… and the music plays on… “Make me come alive, leave your cares behind, wanna touch the sky, free your soul and mind!”

Meet THE FAULKERS
by Jen Farris
04.16.04

I have beef! These FAULKERS are killing me! I cannot get this off my mind. Let’s have a heart to heart. Are we eye to eye? Pull up that ottoman and have a seat. Seriously, sit down and let me ask you. Have people in American media totally lost their minds? Have they really bumped their heads? What The FAULK is going on in our media today? Most importantly our music?

Do you know who The FAULKERS are? Many of them work in these media conglomerates with their goal of making that nothing-but-net-swish-shot into —The Bank!

These FAULKERS do things like find every way possible to humiliate and demean common people, make tons of money off of them, wipe their butts with them, then discard them like trash. The FAULKERS are people who sit in their high gloss leather swivel cherry wood office chairs and cook up ways to lure common folk into seriously awkward or uncomfortable situations, with the high possibility of embarrassment to nationally viewing audiences, but entice these people fame and fortune, again to take all of that hype, press, and money to- The Bank!

Take this kid, William Hung, for example off of the American Idol losers list. WHAT THE FAULK FAULKER??? This kid sucks. I mean REALLY REALLY sucks! Am I living in the Matrix!? Am I the only person in America who was utterly pissed off when I turned on Leno, Conan, The Today Show, opened my USA Today paper, turned on the radio and hear this shizznit on front row, front page, headline, and top billing? Is it ONLY me??! Or did this insult EVERY hard working singer songwriter in America who has been beating the pavement for years, constantly strategizing ways to get the chance for a spotlight on a LOCAL live morning TV show (more so a national show) and found that FAULKING GARBAGE stepped into Mainstream FAULKING MEDIA and bumped them right back out because this “bang bang” American Idol took their place in America’s hearts?!

Did you know that this guy received a record deal and went gold plus? Can you believe this muck charted on Billboard at #34? Can you believe that this non-singing-wanna live la vida loca-no rhythm-non dancing- reject is being funneled marketing dollars for this retching album when tons of deserving musicians are robbing Peter to pay Paul just to travel on the road to play a gig?

Do these FAULKERS have to make EVERYTHING so absolutely commercialized? Does EVERYHING have to ring cash registers to these FAULKERS? Do I have to feel as if I am blindfolded with bandana over my eyes, a cigarette in my mouth, and guns pointing at MY delicate little flowery ears every time I turn on the TV, Radio? Tortured by watered-down fake-imitations of the “real” thing? Just to make a dollar?

FAULKER. You are killing me—on top of pissing me off. What the FAULK?!

Music Is Powerful-Turn It Up
by Jen Farris
03.16.04

I think that it is so interesting that no matter what separates us as human beings, races, social status, financial status, that many times that one common thread is the music that we share. It is the one thing that draws all of us on one accord. We could be that middle-aged power couple that can barely communicate while in weekly marital sessions, with one of the two always insistent upon having the last word, but can sit for an entire song and hang onto every word from the most belligerent artist from start to finish.

Why is that? What makes us continue to stop and listen? What is it about a songwriter’s point of view that makes time stop and we listen? Analyze? Discuss?
It is obvious to me that we want to know the musical point of view. I certainly find that to be very interesting. It is as if music is a history book, dispelling myths, creative thought provoking conversation, telling the truths of the world, and making people stop and say the almighty quote of late night great Arsenio Hall “hummmmm.”

That’s powerful if you ask me. There is great power in music. In these days and times of turmoil in America we need music that moves the nation’s people. You know, days and times in which we get excited to find regular gas at $1.79 per gallon instead of $2.10. That’s whack if you ask me because just four years ago $1.10 was considered too high by most car driving standards.

You know, days and times in which a grad student from a top prestigious university is elated to have finally gotten hired at an entry-level position in the management training program of a corporation.

You know, days in which millions of dollars have supplied the outcome of new constitutions and laws are being written for lands that most of us have and will never travel, yet the funding for the educational system in our own neighborhood is consistently being drastically reduced.

I say to that, it is time to turn the volume up in America. We need to get involved and I’ll be damned if music isn’t a great tool to grab people’s attention. Is it just me or does it seems like everyone has their buttons on mute? (either that or we are totally distracted by the Joan & Melissa Rivers exclusive E-Hanger Award announcement for Best Outfit on ‘Sex-in-the-City’ that we are listening to on full blast.. or possibly the feature on the Hilton Sisters’ best kept Manolo Blahnik shopping spree secrets). Yeah that’s it. America is too caught up in the ‘important’ issues of the day, right??!

Can we not hear? Are we not listening? “What’s going on?” “Where is the love?” “Imagine” “Porcelain” “Earth Song”. I see that someone has been listening. It’s time people to listen more.

We NEED some new songs. We NEED to tune in. And we NEED to do it NOW. Just think; if we don’t do it soon, we may look up and our ‘radios’ may get taken away in a security check at the airport. You never know when big brother may not like what is being heard and decides that it is time for that to change too.

My Soul Ride
by Jen Farris
03.01.04

Long road trips need the comfort of a man. Surround me, comfort me, take me for hours in my car and soothe me. Ohhhhh Yeah. With both hands locked on the steering wheel I want to be placed into another realm with my man giving me just enough so I can keep both eyes focused on the road. Just me and him. For hours. From Savannah to Atlanta. All the way up the road. I want him all to myself until I pull into my driveway. I want his voice to fill up every inch of my car and I want it loud. So, loud in fact, that all the passers-by hear every word. I need him to take all of my worries away and keep me enthralled into his every word and emotion so that hours are shaved off as I drive.

I need the soul of a man. I need him to have passion in his voice and to rock me all the way up 16, to 75, all the way to 285. I need a Soul Man. I need that Hot Buttered Soul that forces a grin on my face despite the many hours I have yet to travel. I need him to take me there. For the entire trip. I need him to take my worries away. Clear my mind. Take me to another level of comfort and allow him to sing to me. I need passion in every word of every song. I need that ERIC ROBERSON “Past Paradise” so I can get my fill of every umm and ahh. Every note change, harmony, and hook. I need to hear him make love to those poems and to jazz me with that sax. I need HESTON to give me a sip of “Sumthin in the Water.” Ohhh my my my. Let me feel the beats of that percussion and every guitar lick in tuned with every raspy delivered note. As I hit the curves in the road, gimme some “Future Love” FRANK MCCOMB so that my fingertips to the steering wheel are an exact match to the rhythm of his fingers tapping the ivories. Awww Yeah. I am practically on 75 now. How do I shift on my cruise control?! I need to get into the groove so I can tap both of my feet cause ‘bah-do-bee-wee-oooooo yeah’ I am in the zone. OMAR is track #3 of disk 2 and I am officially in overdrive. You are so right my soul bother, “There’s Nothing Like This.”

Soul. Sweet Soul. Hot Buttered Soul. I am so relaxed and in the mood to be grooved. I love it when my man takes me away. Just me and my man. The two of us. Alone on the highway. No one in the car but us. I have him all to myself as he shares his passions, thoughts, stories, memories, the past and the future.

As the cars go by and a flute blows in my ear like the wind, my imagination kicks in, “It’s ok MARLON [SAUNDERS], tell me everything that is on your mind. I am here for you. Express yourself. Tell me the dreams you see. I want to hear about your wonderland as we run away to “The Beginning of Never.”

I am almost home, but before I arrive, SANANDA MAITREYA or is that TERENCE TRENT D'ARBY? Look, I need you to belt out a good tune in my ear one good time as I release the tension in my muscles, unpin my hair and let my locks down. I’m burning the 285-highway stretch, so hit me with a little funk as I dip in and out of the lanes.

Unbelievable. Four hours gone by like the snap of a finger, and once again, I have whisked in and out of love affairs with soul’s most wanted. In just four hours I went to Philly, overseas twice, up to Maryland, down to Atlanta with a layover in Dominica, out west to Cali, and all in between. That’s what I love about Soul, it is the universal language interpreted and loved by many people in many places. I love to love it. Plus, it gives me the chance to have multiple love affairs with no drama. Oh well, off the road now and I am home. Next road trip will be me and the girls. Girl’s night out. ANGELA BOFILL or possibly some CONYA DOSS so gas up the car, pull out the road map, cause it’s the ladies turn next trip.

Golden Music Memories
by Jen Farris

Life is full of pinnacle moments. Many of mine are captured in time in the back of my mind and are rekindled after pulling out my photo album. Fond memories with friends; you know, back when spontaneity was a word in my vocabulary. Back when five dollars could buy either three things:

• Dinner for a week (seven containers of Oodles of Noodles)
• A cab ride to the mall (knowing I had to bum a ride back to campus because my spending money was being used to buy a cute outfit for the gym jam that evening)
• A five-dollar mix tape that had all the best classic 70’s & 80’s soul jams on it.

Yeah. Classic jams. That’s what I remember the most. Jams that moved the soul. Jams that were so fierce they captured emotions in time on pages in my photo book; people’s images frozen in time with their eyes closed, lips pierced, and hands in the air, as if they were living scenes from Ernie Barnes paintings, and no matter where you live, your race, or language, when the DJ plays that special song that rocks your emotions, the word “ooohhh” is the universal confirmation of “that’s my jam!”

Frozen in time are my memories of Good music. Golden music that contains song intros that make you stop in mid sentence of very intense conversations, but instead of the other person getting upset, they join in by singing the tune in unison with you. Who would have thought that samples from Partridge Family’s “ I Think I Love You” would be a hip-hop classic by Nice & Smooth. ‘Baaah bah bah bah- bah bah bah baaah bah--- I got a funky rhyme with a funky funky style I got a funky rhyme with a funky funky style...” Every photo- All eyes closed, every lip pierced, hands in the air. Every face saying “Aww yeah, that’s my JAM!”

Golden Music Memories. But now I think to myself, "when was the last time I felt this way?” "When was the last time I became mesmerized by the movement of a melody, or the words used to describe something in a song?" As I attempt to recall some of the music I've heard lately, my mind slips away from the photo album and takes me to the nightmarish rekindled thoughts of me sitting in front of my TV for 3 minutes of horror at 1:57am watching girls clap their 'below the belt' cheeks for dollars on “BET's Uncut” video show while rappers in throwback jerseys pop bottles with models.....mind you..... 3 minutes before the BET 2am Christian hour of praise. All of a sudden I become ill.

Will our generation’s Oldies But Goodies 20 years from now be songs comprised of lyrical content full of 'droppin' 'poppin' 'slobbin' or better yet 'scrubbin' 'creepin' and 'reminding someone of their 'jeep-in'..?! Oh Lord. Just shoot me!

Please tell me that the passion of writing good music will never be buried in my afterthoughts. In Sony Legend box sets that sit high on my CD shelves. In my daddy’s dusty LPs. In my childhood memories of me turning the dial clockwise in the front seat of my mamma's 1979 Green Dodge Plymouth when I used to slip and slide across the car on her hard hot leather seats (cause ya'll know there was just one BIG front seat). I want to smile again when I turn on the radio. I want to make mental notes when I hear a song for the first time and document what I was doing when I hear it (I don't want to be reaching for Pepto Bismal because I am suddenly sick to my stomach from all the motion of bumpin and grinding, slippin and slidin). If anybody is out there, please tell me that there is a silver lining behind the clouds in radio land because 1:57am is becoming a round-the-clock nightmare and I'm ready to give my aching stomach a well-deserved rest.

I've put the prayer out there so I guess I'll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, I'll be thankful that I was able to capture those fond memories through my photos, and keep them at close hands reach, when I feel the need to smile again.