Bill King's Basement Sessions

Bill King Photography: Josephine Buindo, Lauren Margison, Sophie Berkal-Sarbit, Kinga Heming. The Real Divas.

When we moved into our house on Christie Street some twenty years ago, the basement became home to hundreds of musicians. There were daily jam sessions, recording dates, demos and rehearsals. The basement was electric.

I learned early on that if you want to get a band together, get a space. Not just any space, but a room with good vibes—a place where musicians feel comfortable enough to stay awhile, take chances and let the music find its way.

I didn’t have to do much to make ours feel right. A nine-by-twelve rug. A few amps. Some chairs are scattered about. We didn’t even have a sound system at first. We just winged it.

Rhythm Express rehearsal.

(Jesse King, bass, Everton Paul drums, Selena Evangeline, vocals/guitar, Stacey Kay, bgs, BK keys)

There was big-band jazz. Crazy reggae rehearsals. The Rhythm Express. Jane Bunnett and the Afro-Cuban Blues Project. Real Divas. The Rockit 88 Band. Musicians came down those stairs carrying horns, guitars, drums, amplifiers and whatever else the day required. Then the room came alive.

“Bill King’s Toronto blues group, the Rockit 88 Band, was active from roughly 2003 to 2011. The band won New Artist/Group of the Year at the 2003 Maple Blues Awards and received a 2004 Juno nomination for Too Much Fun.”

Brother, Sister! Rockit 88 Band.

I’d throw up a camcorder and catch what I could. The sound, in most cases, was shitty. This was no Daryl’s House. There were no carefully placed cameras, no polished mixes and no thought that someone might be watching these tapes twenty years later. The camera sat where I could find space for it, and whatever happened in front of it was what we got.

Yet, while vibing through these old hard drives, it is so heart-touching to see those players again—so much younger, deeply in the pocket and fully present in the music. There’s my man Lionel Williams on bass, who passed away a few years back. Watching him play brings the room and the time rushing back. The walk. The smile. The groove. Lionel always knew where the bottom was.

There’s Jackie Richardson and Jay Douglas working through one of my pieces for the musical Gloryland. Selena Evangeline is downstairs with the Rhythm Express, working on “Hold Fast.” Then there are my brothers in the Rockit 88 Band—Neil Chapman, Lionel Williams and Jim Casson—with a young Sophie Berkal-Sarbit singing “Brother, Sister.”

What a cast. What a time.

I think about the number of songs I wrote in that basement and how much music passed through the room. There were sessions with OKAN, Elizabeth Rodriguez and Magdelys Savigne. All of this happened before I ventured off and became a writer for FYIMUSICNEWS.ca and began a decade-long run on Newstalk 1010 radio.

Life keeps rearranging the furniture.

COVID ended the music-family get-togethers. Three years of separation meant that life moved on, and so did the cast. Music changed. Opportunities were rearranged. People moved, found other rooms and followed different roads. Some are still out there playing. Some have stepped away. A few are no longer with us.

Saturday Nite Fish Fry with Shakura S’Aida

Anyone who has been seriously involved in music has likely known a space like this—a basement, a garage, a rehearsal room or a corner of somebody’s house where musicians gathered, made friends and worked things out one song at a time. The room itself may have been ordinary, but what happened inside it was anything but.

I don’t expect it to come again. You can’t reassemble a moment once the years have scattered the players. Nor should you try. You simply celebrate the time you were given, the friendships made and the gratitude that comes from having lived inside the music.

For all its rough sound, marginal lighting and makeshift arrangements, that basement on Christie Street held something beautiful. People came through the door, walked down the stairs, plugged in and played.

And for a while, the whole house moved.

What remained were the songs.

I’m a child of the 60s, the Civil Rights movement, Dr. King, and the words eventually found their way out of me. From that video, a couple of decades back, to a beautiful Memphis-style cover of Brother, Sister. Enjoy.

Brother, Sister

Every person needs to feel the love

A place on this earth – a roof above

Never have to stand alone in line

Beg for scraps and slowly die

Brother, Sister, won’t you walk with me

Brother, Sister, won’t you talk to me

Every day – there’s so much pain

So much hardship – who to blame?

This is not the way it’s meant to be

Every father must feel like a man

Teach his children to understand

There are places he’ll never get to go

There are things way beyond his control

Brother, Sister won’t stand with me

Brother, Sister, won’t you answer me

Bring on the morning, bring on the sunshine

Me and you - and all mankind

Now is the Time – to Raise your Hands Up

Turn your eyes toward heaven

Everybody, stand up!

You are all children, children under the Sun

Remember how you got here – the work has just begun

They marched arm in arm throughout the South

Fought back repression and self-doubt

You know what I mean, you know what I mean – you know what we’ve seen

Oh – there will be hell to pay – if we don’t get it right today.

Brother Sister – won’t you stand with me

Brother, Sister, won’t you answer me

Out in the streets – they can feel the heat

This is not the way it was meant to be.

Now is the Time – to Raise your Hands Up

Turn your eyes toward heaven

Everybody stand up!

You are all children, children under the Sun

Remember how you got here – our work has just begun

Can you see the love? In a newborn baby’s face

Eyes wide open – there to embrace

We got to treat every child on the face of this earth with dignity

We’ve got to open our arms to all humanity

Brother Sister – won’t you stand with me

Brother, Sister, won’t you answer me

Now is the Time – to Raise your Hands Up

Turn your eyes toward heaven

Everybody, stand up!

You are all children, children under the Sun

Remember how you got here – our work has just begun

Brother, Sister … Brothe Sister

I am somebody!

Brother Sister,

Won’t you answer me?