RIP – Tribute Show for Dad

The Birds and the Bees

“You were conceived right in that blue house,” he said, pointing to a cramped one-bedroom
bungalow. It was shadowed by two newer, taller apartments packed on either side.

“See the window on the left? That was our bedroom.”

Bernal Heights, San Francisco, a moment of a passion—July, I reckon, 1983. It was important
for him that I see the exact place in which he came and made me with my mom. I was eleven years old
and we were having “The Talk,” as it’s known.

♦

Taste

dad had a strong opinion on music and was quite snide about the stuff i discovered as a teen. music i eagerly showed him, turning up the volume and holding my breath.

 

i respected his authority, playing mix tapes recorded on the tape deck, and he would say something like

“i’m not amused. the melody is too similar to the rhythm section.”

yet

despite his sometimes-insufferable pretensions, after his death i inherited his music, literally with his vinyl, cds, cassettes; figuratively with a taste developed, standards which have guided me to truly interesting work I’d otherwise dismissed as uncouth.

a sampling of songs which always remind me of him, songs he’d play on repeat, rewinding the tape deck or picking up that needle and placing it back, over, over, over.

rip kim edwards (1949 – 2004)

with love,
dj jules

*skip to 2:30 for show beginning

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