Let Love Rule - Lenny Kravitz Page 0,27

recordings, etc. I discovered I had a real understanding and appreciation of classical music. My parents were proud.

My choir years turned out to be monumental. This was the only formal training in music I’d ever have. I didn’t get formal training for R&B or rock ’n’ roll. That was stuff I learned by feel. But developing vocal techniques under the supervision of exacting instructors was something that helped me forever. I learned to sing from my diaphragm. I learned breath control, enunciation, pitch. And I was thrilled to stand onstage with entire orchestras and breathe in the fullness of their sound as we sang melodies written centuries earlier.

Another big benefit was making lifelong friends. Choir buddy Phineas Newborn III had an advanced sense of music. His dad, whom he was named after, was a brilliant bebop pianist; his uncle Calvin was a great blues guitarist; and his godfather, Ray Brown, was the best jazz bassist in the world. Phineas was all personality—sweet, sharp, and witty—and without a mean bone in his body. He lived in Leimert Park, a Black arts neighborhood off Crenshaw, just down the hill from our house.

Phineas’s cousin Joey Collins was also in the choir. Joey and his mom stayed in Baldwin Hills, close to Cloverdale. Like Phineas, Joey had beautiful energy and a big love of music. Those two became my brothers.

* * *

One day, Phineas and Joey were witness to an ugly episode.

A group of us choirboys were being driven home in our carpool. Mrs. Collins, Joey’s mom, was driving, and Grandma Jean was riding shotgun. She had moved to L.A. after the death of Grandpa Joe and was now living in Park La Brea, a sprawling apartment complex filled with former New Yorkers, in the Jewish Fairfax District.

We decided to stop at Tower Records on Sunset. That was one of my favorite spots, a supermarket-size record store. While everyone wandered around, I meandered over to the KISS section. I spotted a bunch of their cassettes. Without giving it too much thought, I slipped one into my jeans pocket. It was so easy that I slipped in another. I looked around. The aisle was empty. This was a breeze. So, why not slip a third cassette into my shirt pocket, and a fourth and fifth into the back of my jeans, where they fit snuggly but securely against my waist. No one was in sight. I was set. I was cool. When I saw my friends and Grandma Jean heading out the door, I followed them.

The minute I walked over the threshold and into the parking lot, a hand grabbed me. I looked around and saw the mug of a massive security guard.

Busted.

My heart dropped to the ground. He took me to a back room, where a store manager said, “You’ve been caught red-handed. You do understand what this means. You’ll be going to jail. This is serious shit. You have over sixty dollars’ worth of merchandise. That’s a major crime. You’ll be kicked out of school. Your life is ruined. You’ve fucked up big time.”

This rant went on for ten more minutes while I shook like a leaf. At the very end, just when I thought he was going to call the cops, he said, “I don’t know why, but I’m giving you a break. I’m letting you go. But don’t ever show your face in this store again.”

I sighed the biggest sigh of my life. My relief was epic. I must have thanked the manager ten times. I was free to go, but since my friends and grandmother had seen me apprehended, there’d still be hell to pay. I had no doubt that Grandma Jean, who was absolutely furious, would tell Mom minutes after we arrived home. And she did just that. Thankfully, Dad was at work.

Mom was incensed. My conduct violated everything she stood for. My mother’s moral code was simple: You never lied. You never cheated. You never stole. She sent me to my room, where I waited a good hour for her to reappear. She wanted me to think about what I’d done. I was ashamed and embarrassed. The longer I waited, the worse I felt. When she came through the door again, she had composed herself. She wanted to know why I had stolen the cassettes. I truthfully said because I didn’t have the money to buy them, and I’d wanted them really badly. She asked if I knew how selfish and spoiled I sounded. Did I really think