- Richie Havens
At Six O’clock, in the afternoon, yesterday, I was sitting on the mass pike, in traffic, pissed off-
-when the hell am I going to finally -make- sweet, sweet love to my one and only, true love…Crab Rangoon (well, ok, fine, crab Rangoon is my second “truest” love, the preemptive being, obviously, pizza)?
The radio was on. The radio was the only thing, keeping me from Chinese food withdrawal- an MSG related, psychiatric break, really.
Then, the DJ, had to kill that to. Somewhere Between Wilco and Greenday, (and my blissful ignorance) the bitch up and stole my appetite, along with devoured any potential for revitalizing my positive vibrations- my happy face.
So, maybe this is a little morbid; but deep down, I think the person in question, or rather, the legend, that is, would of found comfort, in my lightness: the man had a flawless smile; one of which, offers security, in my beliefs, that “he” had a sense of humor. The ease in which his smile, flooded his whole body, transfused through his fingertips, and like lightning, hitting the ground, instantaneously awoke his instrument, is telling, whether you, my dear reader, like it or not. Richie Havens, at 72 years old, died today, well, yesterday (excuse my tardiness, and the traffic), and music, will never be the same. He was a god. A profit. A pioneer. Havens’, as one could only expect, being the wee one I am, was introduced to me, by my dad, via the notorious documentary, reliving, now, for all generations and ones to come, the notorious “three days” of “love, peace, and music”, and by that I mean, the notorious, Woodstock Festival and subsequent film. Yah, it sucks I wasn’t even the inkling of a thought, in my mother’s mind, back in 1969, let alone, alive, but what I am, is a devout fan, and fellow appreciator of the late Richie Havens; and that, my friends, was the result of the talent’s awe-inducing performance. He comes alive on film. He speaks, even through prerecorded, analog media. He defines, and then redefines what it means to be a musician…a writer…a performer. He will always be the act that pulled me into the whole film, and the hero, that soundtrack’s, a good portion, of my life.
So…when I finally found myself, back in Boston, and sitting, cheek to window, chopsticks in hand, at one of many of my regular Chinatown-inhabiting joints, I ordered, two of the Rangoon, and ate enough for Richie Havens’, and I combined. I hope that, despite all the gluttony I emit, this guru, of all things rhythmic, is somewhere above us all, comfortable knowing…or really reading, that even some of us bratty, thumb-sucking kids, out in New England, will never forget the man, he seems to sincerely be.
Forever in love, Forever a fan,
Rest in something, a little bit more original than peace: rest in serenity, Richie,