In the '70s, when the progressive young Afro-centric Black man's fancy turned to fusion, free jazz, and funk, Miles Davis was our hiphop, our punk rock, our glam. He was where supreme Black artistry and supreme Black arrogance folded in on themselves and we got caught up in the efficiency and elegance of his recombination hustle. James Brown we worshipped but mocked. Jimi was gone, Sly even more gone. Who you gonna call? Inky, the... More >>>