Forget Kelis or Macy Gray. Before them there was Ravie Rave.
I can remember the Manhattanville parties back in the day. My window faced the center. Puerto Rican weddings and Rap Parties filled the centers walls in the summertime.
I swore if I heard Heartbeat ONE MO GAIN-I would throw myself right out of my window. Of course that was the jammy jam at the time so I heard that damned song ad nauseum.
That's how they did it back in the day, a song you barely could tolerate-you would find yourself humming in class.
But when my parents gave me my own radio, I discovered two things that I held dearly to me: Lite Fm and Howard Stern on AM radio. 66 WNBC. In the afternoons I learned about lezbums and rock and roll. Back then Howard played music in between his tirades. I soaked it up like a sponge. After Howard, John Lennon, Elton John, Bread and countless others filled my ears with timeless classics. To this day I absolutely love Paul Anka and Neil Diamond. How was I to know that their angst ridden tunes would fill my lifes pattern so deeply that I could FEEL how they were singing?
I learn learned how to explore my dials. I would jam with Jim Kerr in the mornings, Paco in the evenings. I recieved my very first kiss to Come live with me Angel, by Marvin Gaye during Frankie Crockers Quiet Storm. Frankie was also playing when I lost my virginity-Luther Vandross' Make me a believer. I wasn't impressed with my lover-but I loved Luffas sawng.
Then in 1983 MTV came into my world. I instantly feel in love with Rick Springfield. Fuck Jessies Girl Rick-I would dream to myself. I even changed the title to Ravies Gal. It wouldn't be the first time I inserted my name into a song. I would sing Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers You Just Got Lucky until I made my own damned self sick.
But for a long while through elementary and junior high school I hid my passion for non black groups. After all, I had Kurtis Blows poster on my closet door and The DeBarges on my wall. Foster Sylver had my little heart in his hands. I was a card carrying Right On! subscriber.
But I hid my Bop and Tiger Beat magazines in the radiator. I would carry my Rick Springfield mini Bop magazine between the pages of my history book.
I learned how to break dance and pop and lock with the rest of my peers. I had all of the Jacksons albums-I blamed it on the boogie dammit! Mike and me were cool on the listening tip-but my heart pined for Marlon.
