literature
Beat's music literature from the New York Times or the recesses of online. Our favorite stories showcase musicians.
Home Ain't No Place
I only had a few dozen interviews under my belt when I got the call that Smokin’ Bo Waites was willing to let me do a feature on him-- his first interview in over forty years. He was a fiercely private man and didn’t care at all for the media circus side of the music business. But when I reached out to his manager, I explained that I wasn’t just another young gunner, looking to break through by getting his name attached to my CV. I had been a disciple of his music since I was fourteen. The first time I ever heard one of his songs, it pierced me to my core and brought me to tears. He was more than just a blues legend to me; he was a religious figure, a mystic, a saint, who had led me through some of the darkest times in my life. I’d like to think that something I said must have convinced him, but in reality, Bo probably just decided the time was right to share his story.
By A. L. Hamilton3 years ago in Beat
The Lead Man's Journal
The Lead Man’s Journal 5/14/22 New Orleans, Louisiana Congratulations little black Moleskine notebook - you just became the landing strip of the thoughts nobody else will hear, but must be expressed. Ever since I blacked out after the Mardi Gras concert two months ago, I’ve been poked and prodded by doctors, only for them to say it was all in my head. They told me to write, so I’m writing. Derrick, my manager is so obsessed with getting me right only because his job depends on me. Otherwise, I think he’d throw me to the wolves and get a brand new model. He still may. I’m the front man, so if I go, the band would have to have a complete overhaul. Rebranding, new merchandise, maybe even a new name. You think the bet’s worth the hand? Honestly, when I landed this gig, it was like winning the lottery to me. Now I feel like I’ve traded my life for a blur of an existence and a miser who’s in charge of my piggy bank.
By A Rose Williams3 years ago in Beat
The Angels of Hell, Michigan
The Angels of Hell, Michigan by AP West It was a cold November Wednesday evening in 1998 when Serendipity unpacked her guitar and flute from the trunk of her car. She headed into The Blind Pig in Ann Arbor, Michigan for its local band night. This was a national rock venue and she was a young woman in a new city trying to prove herself and trying to network with the local bands.
By Pamela West-Finkle3 years ago in Beat
This Child Can Sing.
This Child can Sing By Anquinette Miller February 23, 2021 One thing is certain, everyone has a voice, every baby born, alive, has a scream, a yell, yelp, a squeal, raspy, low, high, different sounds, soft, loud and all in between, for many parents they feel a Star is born.
By Anquinette N Miller3 years ago in Beat
Musical Memories
Every time the onion reeked with sweat she would cry. The circular teardrops covered her face, encompassing her eyelids. She didn’t mind. Her kitchen aroma matched the scaling raw fish scattered between melting ice and minced parsley leaves sprinkled between the edges. Thankfully the strawberry gel dipped inside the inner cores of her angel gray hair, her hair strands waving along her shoulders.
By Yaram Yahu3 years ago in Beat