Let Love Rule - Lenny Kravitz Page 0,34

I remember the moment Mom told Miles that I was deep into music. He smiled and nodded silently but approvingly. Over the years, he was always supportive of me. Many said he was detached, but I saw him as an inspiration and an ally. And because Miles didn’t bullshit, one encouraging word from him was worth ten thousand words from anyone else.

* * *

Miles’s validation was fuel. I was eating, living, and breathing music. Mom had bought me a Ludwig natural-finish five-piece drum set that I warmed up by playing to records like George Benson’s “Breezin’” and the Jacksons’ “Blame It on the Boogie” for hours on end. If Dad wasn’t around, I’d have my friends from Crenshaw come up to jam. If Dad was due home, I wouldn’t take any chances and I’d go down to their apartments, where I’d play guitar on jams like Earth, Wind & Fire’s “Jupiter.”

Fooling with all the instruments—drums, guitar, bass, keyboards—I wasn’t purposely trying to combine genres; I was just exploring all the different styles I loved. Rock, soul, pop, classical, jazz, funk, whatever. It all felt natural to me.

One day in 1978, Mom was planning a party up at Cloverdale, and I convinced her to let me and my boys perform for her guests. I got together some of the best musicians I knew, and we learned the biggest disco hits. When we started playing, everybody hit the floor. Mom was all smiles, and all her guests were surprised. I’m not sure what Dad thought. He was too busy chatting it up with Max Julien or Roscoe Lee Brown.

* * *

A night I’ll never forget: I was fast asleep—it was well after midnight—when I was awakened by loud voices coming from the living room. Taj Mahal, the great bluesman, had dropped by after his gig to visit my folks. I had to get out of bed to see him. We all loved Taj’s records. We also respected him as someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of world music. Taj is a big man. He has a deep, gruff voice, a no-nonsense manner, and a sweet soul. When I wandered into the living room in my pajamas, wiping the sleep from my eyes, Taj gave me a warm greeting. I mentioned how I’d been playing music. Dad said I should be concentrating more on my school work. “His grades stink, and they’re getting worse every year.”

Taj looked at me, Taj looked at Dad, and then Taj did something no adult had ever done before. He took on Dad and stood up for my future as a musician.

“I think the kid’s doing just fine,” he said. “Leave him alone. He knows what he’s doing.”

That was big. Taj inspired me to redouble my efforts. My excitable energy got more excited. There were bands all over the city I wanted to play with, but how could I get to the clubs? Being up on Cloverdale, far from public transportation, was an obstacle. I had to get down to where the jams were happening. It took me a while to build up the nerve, but I found a way.

One night, I slipped into my parents’ bedroom while they were asleep, got on my hands and knees, crawled past their bed, and slowly opened the door to my father’s closet. The door made a creaking noise, and I froze. I was scared shitless that Dad would catch me in the act, but he didn’t. I was able to get into the closet without waking my parents and reach up to the shelf where he kept the shotgun and car keys. The keys to my mom’s car in hand—I didn’t dare take my dad’s Rolls—I crawled back out, tiptoed to the driveway, put the car in neutral, and rolled it down the hill away from the house before starting the engine and driving off into the night. This was crazy. Friends had just recently taught me to drive. I didn’t have a license. I was fourteen years old.

* * *

These were artistic adventures, not erotic escapades. In that period, my friendships with girls still fell into the brother-sister category. Girls didn’t look at me romantically. They were turned on by jocks or players, and I was neither. I was the nice guy who patiently listened to their problems. When they told me how some asshole had mistreated them, I lent them a sympathetic ear. That was okay with me. I was more interested in chasing down music than girls anyway.

So,