Maurice Irby Jr, My Dad, My Father
I grew up in Freeport, NY. Every morning back then, you would hear my dad playing his Gibson SG. Cherry wood, special edition. It was badass! I would hear him strumming, saying something, but not words. He was making a song! Duh duh duh dum, duh duh duh dum would eventually become a song. That's how he made them. He played all the parts, track by track he would lay it down.
He would call me downstairs, "REECE! COME HERE!" Take this tambourine, and do this, Chinga Chinga ching, Chinga Chinga ching, keep doing that, and I would help him lay the track down. Listened to it later, I didn't like it! But he was happy. Too much to tell, this will be ongoing, so check back. My dad was Marvelous