One night in the late sixties I was walking down Avenue C in the East Village. It was late, and I was looking for a new place to grab a meal, and listen to some Jazz.
As I walked, I found a spot called, Rafikki. Not sure of the spelling now. I was only there once, and, I think it's gone now. But, it looked like a nice place, and the sign outside read, " live Jazz". Well, I had found a little piece of paradise.
Having been exposed to live Jazz from the age of eight by my mother in 1955, I was impressed even then with the music. But, my interest waned as one might expect from a child. It was only years
later that my interest and love of this music began to evolve. Sometime in the early sixties, when I was fifteen, my oldest brother, Dan, brought home some albums, Ramsey Lewis, among them. I'd heard of Ramsey,
As I walked, I found a spot called, Rafikki. Not sure of the spelling now. I was only there once, and, I think it's gone now. But, it looked like a nice place, and the sign outside read, " live Jazz". Well, I had found a little piece of paradise.
Having been exposed to live Jazz from the age of eight by my mother in 1955, I was impressed even then with the music. But, my interest waned as one might expect from a child. It was only years
later that my interest and love of this music began to evolve. Sometime in the early sixties, when I was fifteen, my oldest brother, Dan, brought home some albums, Ramsey Lewis, among them. I'd heard of Ramsey,
