Let Love Rule - Lenny Kravitz Page 0,30

seemed absolute. As a teenager with a new love for God, I wanted instruction.

Mom and Dad were puzzled. They saw me attending a church that, at least to them, was strange. It was also strange for them to see me keeping the Sabbath from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday.

I give Mom credit for giving me space. A spiritual seeker like her father, she realized I was on a journey. And because she was a tolerant person, she wasn’t going to get in my way. Let the boy find God in his own way. Dad didn’t understand. I’m sure he thought I was being ridiculous, yet he kept quiet. He hardly said anything to me anyway, so this was just another topic he could avoid.

* * *

Meanwhile, my hyper energy got more hyper. One day, I’d be out smoking dope and digging Black Sabbath with the Dogtown crew, and the next, I’d be singing Fauré’s “Requiem” with the California Boys’ Choir. Then, on Saturdays, I’d be sitting in church praising the Lord.

And during the week I was a percussionist in the John Adams school orchestra. Meet music teacher Lida Beasley. A tough lady from Texas with a thick drawl, Miss Beasley whipped me right into shape. She was fierce. She had me playing timpani, glockenspiel, marimbas, tubular bells, snare drums, and tambourines. If I fouled up the rhythms, she ran over and played the parts herself. Same for the violinists. The minute they messed up, she’d grab a violin and render the part perfectly. In fact, she could play every instrument, from French horn to clarinet. She was the first musician I had ever seen do that. As time went on, I began to understand what a huge influence the woman had on me. I witnessed the wonder of being a multi-instrumentalist.

Yet at first I couldn’t stand her. She was too stern and demanding. She scared us to death. Still, we couldn’t deny her skill. We also saw how deeply she cared about excellence. By the end of the first term, I loved her. In turn, she loved us, no matter our musical level. Her passion was great. So was her main lesson: no matter how long it takes, work till you get it right.

* * *

In addition to Phineas and Joey, Noah Cotsen was another close choir buddy. He was a good kid whom Mom adored. We were roommates during choir training camp, and we often had sleepovers both at my house and at his home in Beverly Hills. For a kid, Noah was extremely well mannered and sophisticated. He attended the prestigious Harvard-Westlake school in Coldwater Canyon. When his parents sent care packages to camp, they weren’t filled with chips and cookies like the rest of us got. Instead, Noah received tins of imported crab, caviar, potted jams, and other worldly delicacies. He was into fashion, skin care, and all the finest things in life. His dad, Lloyd Cotsen, owned Neutrogena soap and collected Japanese art.

Noah turned me on to all kinds of songs. He understood musical nuance. He pointed out, for example, how in Carly Simon’s “Nobody Does It Better” the strings’ lines respond to the horn punches. Sitting in Noah’s room, we must have listened to that record twenty times in a row while Noah jumped up and down on the bed, singing all the different parts, each time growing more excited about the brilliance of the arrangement.

A few days before the next planned sleepover at Noah’s, I came home to find Mom waiting for me. I knew by the look on her face that something was terribly wrong. She told me to sit down. She took my hand and, barely able to contain herself, said that Noah, his mother, and another boy from choir named Chris Doering had been murdered in the Cotsens’ home. I went numb. I couldn’t process it. Things like that just didn’t happen to people I knew. I can’t remember if I asked Mom how or why it had happened, but even if I had asked, Mom would have had no answers. Answers wouldn’t come till later.

All I know was that my friend had been killed. I freaked out. Mr. Cotsen asked me to be a pallbearer at Noah’s funeral, but I was too traumatized to attend. I now see that as a weak moment in my life. I wish I could have found the strength, but it wasn’t there. I’d never been to a funeral before, and I just couldn’t handle