There is a tradition on the airwaves of Houston known as “Friday Oldies” on The Choice 90.9 KTSU-FM. I have had the privilege of hosting “The Friday Express” every Friday evening for many years. In fact, I literally grew up on the air at KTSU, learning and getting to know the unique musical taste of the people of Houston and beyond. One thing I learned quickly and still abide by is that Maze featuring Frankie Beverly has to be in rotation consistently. No exception!
With this week’s passing of Frankie Beverly, his impact on Houston, the South, and the world has become crystal clear. We have all become accustomed to publicly displaying our grief when we lose one of our icons. The obligatory “this one hurts,” on social media has become an overused, common refrain. But honestly and at the risk of sounding cliché, for me, this one hurts.
To best explain what Frankie Beverly meant to many of us, I will explain what he and his music have meant to me. It is almost reflexive to think of Frankie in relation to family reunions, card parties, and festive concerts where thousands of people knew every word to every song and sang every note louder and more passionately than any one person ever could, including Frankie himself. Many people I know have seen Maze at least a half dozen times as it was an annual rite of passage for decades. To be in an audience of 10,000, mostly black folks, of all ages, singing “Joy & Pain” to the top of your lungs is an experience of unity and community that is joyful, rare, and indescribable. There simply isn’t anything like it.
But for me and many others, Frankie’s music meant so much more than just the parties and concerts. Frankie Beverly was the voice of my soundtrack as a young teenager navigating the emotions of a first crush. His songs were the guidance when figuring out how to say what I felt in ways that my words alone could not explain. His songs helped me to understand that relationships are not easy but oh so worth pursuing.
When Frankie sang, “We got our love and no matter how it’s said or done…we are one,” it put all the strife and bickering in perspective. When Frankie passionately proclaimed, “You know there is nothin’, nothin’, nothin’ I would not do, before I let you go!” I had asked, myself, have I tried hard enough? And when Frankie melodically bared his soul singing, “And you’ve given me a reason…you’ve given me a reason to love one more time,” I felt romantic hope and redemption despite never losing love before in my life.
But there is even more. Frankie’s music offered reflection with songs like “Golden Time of Day” and the need for universal love with “We Need Love to Live” and “Happy Feelin’s.” I could go on and on and never truly capture what his rich, beautiful, honest voice did as it conveyed what I felt. What you felt. What we feel!
The bottom line is that he had a long, glowing career of art that did what art is designed to do, move us. His songs were personal and universal at the same time. His voice offered intimacy and community all at once. The music of Maze and the voice of Frankie Beverly is still evolving as I have navigate my way through relationships, love and life. He somehow knew how I felt then and helps me understand what I feel even now. With him, it is not just the words. It is not just the melody. It is the real, raw emotion that tapped into something in all of us.
As the years go on and the long list of important icons in our lives dwindles, I can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude. I am grateful to have had a relationship with Frankie Beverly’s music that I have had. With so many incredible artists and so much great music, Maze featuring Frankie Beverly is still a nostalgic refuge to enjoy a road trip, a gathering with friends and family, or alone with my favorite beverage reflecting on the past. But in his own words, why do the things that make us happy, make us sad…seems to me it’s like joy and pain, sunshine and rain. Rest in peace, Frankie.
Article written by Devan Wade, host of ‘The Friday Express’ and KTSU’s ‘Sports Talk’ on The Choice 90.9 FM Houston.