CLICK HERE TO HEAR ME READ THIS
Hey Reader,
If you’ve been following me a minute, you know I’ve been shooting still photographs since I was 7. Inspired by a first and second grade assignment to ‘use our vocabulary words’ to write stories about pictures from Time and Life magazines, and classic artworks. Thus, when I picked up my mother’s Brownie camera my first instinct was to tell stories with pictures. Early subjects were trees and fields in different seasons, cats, my dog Snoopy, and of course my relatives and other people around our rural community.
The first camera I purchased with my hard earned chore money was a Polaroid Big Shot, which I heard was Andy Warhol’s favorite. Designed to take only portraits, I started stalking relatives around the houses between our farms first. I use the word “stalking” because our elders were staunchly adamant about not being photographed. Like Native Americans who believed parts of their souls were stolen when images of them were taken.
I don’t know whether Uncle Charles believed this or not, but I do know that he looked at me like I was a rattlesnake or a bear approaching for attack, whenever he saw me with my camera. It took 6 years and 3 cameras for me to finally get this shot (on my Pentax). Holding court in his favorite chair amongst a wall of overgrown vines, Uncle Charles hadn’t seen me in 3 years, since I’d moved up to New York after my great-grandfather (his younger brother) had died. He was jovial and welcoming until he saw my camera. Even though I told him I needed a picture of him so I wouldn’t forget what he looked like, as I quickly snapped this shot, he dropped his grin and ‘gave me the hand’ with his eyes closed. Which meant, shut it down, with no further discussion to be had! He didn’t douce my camera with his chewing tobacco juice or chase me out of the yard for sneaking the photo of him. So I sat with him and reminisced a spell. (About that time, 9-year old me stowed away on a side compartment of his utility truck as he sped down our hill, until Mama yelled at me to get off before I got killed.)
A few minutes later, I was able to take a picture of Uncle Charles laughing at his own joke about people up north smoking “left-handed cigarettes”. His code name for cannabis. He gave me a big bear hug as I was leaving; but cautiously side-eyed me, until I got into the car. Needless to say, I had to immortalize this ancestral event with an imaginary band and album.
Beloved multi-national reggae-hip hop-jazz ensemble, Uncle Charles ’n’ Them, dangles between genres. A little Sly Stone, a little Bob Marley, a little Alfa Mist, Uncle Charles ’n’ Them have crafted a sound that simultaneously soothes and pumps. Hailing from different corners of the world — Germany, North Carolina, Jamaica — they sculpt cultural kindredness with their melodies. Known for their symphonic length compositions like “Rhapsody in Red, Green & Black”, and live shows that feature elaborate choreographed dance performances, ‘UC+T’ have garnered a loyal fandom across many a cultural landscape. An homage to Stevie Wonder’s “Secret Life of Plants”, their latest album “Left-Handed Cigarettes” chronicles the life of a cannabis field, “from seed to puff”. Weaving together micro recordings of multi-geographical nature sounds, violins, flutes & saxophones, the album rhythmically portrays twigs embracing the sun for the first time, becoming aware of each other, and the painful plight of a leaf being plucked and dried to make a spliff. Given these innovative musical ventures, it’s not surprising that their alt, neo & experimental music peers have declared the record a masterpiece.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read or listen to my latest “Imaginary Bands & their Fake Ass Songs” story. Next time I’ll be exploring that age old conflict between the head and the heart. And as the holidays are upon us, I’ll also reveal the book’s release date, upcoming events, and other sweet surprises.
Until then, Big peace!
Carolyn
