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IT BURNS INSIDE – A Tribute to Johnny Braff
A unique voice that shaped our high school days
that inspired songs of love
poetry and praise
Dead: Johnny Braff
is gone and I upon hearing the news
mutter through the haze
“Can’t you see I’m crying”
Remembering this icon in powder blue polyester suit
Kneeling to serenade
young girls in their red berets and white bobby socks
who swooned
Like crimson hibiscus flowers and cried,
“A shower of tears”
They would sway in the crush of the sound at bandstand mesmerized by the voice,
the dynamics, the style.
He was for them a one-man show.
To hear he is gone.
“It burns inside.”
The Rhythmaires, Telstars, Four Fellas, Debrells, Rockets, Bumble and the Saints, Combo Seven or Dominators bands
They all delivered at every show on time
“Same time, same place.”
And we too listened, fascinated, some glued to Radio Demerara or GBS
And visualized what it must be to deliver such lyrics with sizzling passion to someone
“This girl is a good girl.”
Others went live or near jukeboxes with half-empty Banks beers in hand, yearning to catch a glimpse, to dance to the rhythm of his songs on polished, greenheart dancehall floors
Knowing his success was ours
Now hearing he is gone and exclaim.
“Read it over.”
Schooled in soul and rhythm and blues by his yankee cousins Solomon Burke, Otis Redding, Fats Domino, Sam Cooke and Brooke Benton
But self-taught in his own Kitty Village-honed style
He delivered.
“Anything he can do.”
For generations of Guyanese
Who have traversed this world his music in their hearts
He hurled hit after hit
to London, Canada, America, the Caribbean and
Netherlands, and they recall.
“The green grass.”
Come back, Johnny
An encore call onstage
The band is tuning up
The MC tests the microphones
The crowd is drunk and restless
They’re calling your name, and
“Nobody can take your place.”
Dougy Mo
Fan
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