SAXUALITY IS A NATURAL THING. Some people try to learn the theory and fundamentals of using their saxes, but it’s either you have it or you don’t … and Donville Inniss certainly has it.
When he saxed on stage last weekend, he added an element of je ne sais quoi – or, maybe it was plain saxiness – to his status. Kinda like Bill Clinton.
When Clinton pulled out the instrument on stage and put on the dark glasses, he became more than just the president of the United States. He became Bill the blower. Just like that: an almost magical transition.
And just like that, the Minister Donville Inniss became the donzel (not exactly “Denzel” but look up the terminology; and you’ll see what I mean). The Donzel was royalty, making the ladies feel like damsels. There’s just something about a music man. Don, I’m quite saxy myself. Perhaps we can do a duet sometime.
A sax can really take you places, though. Look at Arturo – he saxed his way to the top, working with Grammy awardees. And when he performs, every blow-by-blow detail is fascinating. He can blow with no hands, one hand, arms outstretched. Arturo is a true master of sax.
On another Arturistic note, I heard a soulful, sophisticated, rendition of Leadpipe and Saddis’ Ah Feelin while at the lubritorium nearest to the sanitorium in Black Rock.
The melody moved me. And for static sisters like me, it takes a lot to move me.
Even the attendant pumping my gas was bopping to the beat. I glanced at the Galant behind and saw the gentleman grooving too. I exited the car and started to do a line dance (the only one I know, thanks to Leon and Margaret Greaves).
To my excitement, two ladies joined me, and we swayed to the sax and the sweet rhythm. The Galant gentleman didn’t dance, but he did smile broadly while nodding to the beat. You think anybody would do that over and away? No, boy! They may have sent us to an over-and-away version of Jenkins.
That is one thing Caribbean people have – not just rhythm, but vibes as well. This is why Kadooment, Carnival, mas … whatever the nomenclature, is so unique. Our people are people’s people.
Imagine saying “good morning” when you step into the elevator at a conference in Miami and the occupants ogle at you as if you just offended them. I hope we never rid ourselves of our warmth and courteousness. The manners our mothers taught us truly add to our joie de vivre in these parts.
Before I go, Hoadie – I ain’t forget you. The lady parts are still reeling from a santapee back in 2004. I never saw a real-life centipede until that fateful day in November. While sitting in a ZR, I thought to myself, “This bus got ants and they biting real hard.”
I had to make a quick exit, trying my best to hobble home. Dick Hoad, I don’t really like to talk about centipedes. Brings back wretched recollections.
*Veoma Ali is an author, actor, broadcaster, advertising exec and, most important, a karaoke lover.
