Roy Ayers, the jazz legend, the man whose records are pillars of my formative years up until today, has passed away. And maybe it's fitting that I’m writing this at home feeling the rawness of a rainy evening in March, in the last fleeting grips of winter reminiscing on a musician who emanated warmth in every record he made.
When someone who’s done so much through their art goes on to the next world, it can be tough to keep away from repeating certain words and phrases to describe them. “Timeless” is one that can fall into that category, but truly one that describes his career and legacy. As a matter of fact, if you’ve got your phone nearby or can pull it up on a computer, even if you’ve got the record, go pull it out and take a listen to “Everybody Loves The Sunshine”. Right now.
Like so many others I know, Roy Ayers was a familiar figure you saw in your parents’ vinyl collection. It wasn’t until my first couple years of college that I really got to dig deep into his discography. It’s remarkable how much he shaped funk, soul, and especially Hip-Hop - I know you can rattle off the artists who sampled “Everybody Loves The Sunshine”, but then you have “Brooklyn” which is a block party blockbuster. “Running Away”. Even “The Memory”.I was fortunate to see him live in concert a few times, always in New York City. He got to be synonymous with NYC even though he was from Los Angeles. Always interesting how that works. And he was effortlessly cool, no matter if you saw him at Central Park Summerstage, Fort Greene Park, S.O.B.’s, or any other venue he graced over the years.
The last time was in 2023, at Sony Hall in midtown Manhattan on an unusually hot night in early April. He was on the bill with Big Daddy Kane, The GZA, and The Phunky Nomads (shoutout to them), and it felt like the night was telling us that the summer was going to truly be a scorcher. I remember it being so packed inside, all of the cheeba smoke in the air, that someone had to be carried out before J. Period could finish his set on the turntables. And then Roy came out. A little slower in his steps, but still full of spirit. From the moment he got on his vibraphone, the audience was riveted with every note. Any thoughts you had of him being too frail were dispelled, as he led the crowd in singing his hits, closing out with “Everybody Loves The Sunshine”. You saw a couple of the Phunky Nomads beaming as they played backing music for him, and hell why wouldn’t they? It was one of the night’s grandest highlights.
I wrote on social media after seeing the news and getting the confirmation that it’s going to be hard living in a world without Roy Ayers in it. It's almost second nature to walk into a spot in Bed-Stuy, Philly, and anywhere else on the globe and see his album covers on the wall, or a poster featuring his effortless swagger. But I’m sure I share the same feeling like millions of others who are glad he shared his gifts with us like he did. Thank you, Roy.
