With Eric B. & Rakim, Notorious B.I.G., Geto Boys, Slick Rick, 2Pac, Gang Starr, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five

by Donovan Harrell

Once upon a time, not long ago,
When I wore dinosaur pajamas and played Super Nintendo, 
I sat on that brown couch
In your music room,
Looting all your CDs and movies too.

I carried out my master plan, 
To get all those records inside my hands.
I talked back, you put me on punishment,
No games, no TV—I was furious
So I start my mission, once you leave the residence
Plotting how I’d explore my inheritance.

That night I couldn’t sleep,
I tossed and turned
Through every single record
And CD you had burned.
Disc cases just kept getting thicker,
I plucked out each one that I would listen to later.


Had no clue how to use the record player,
So I just sat and stared at the album covers there:
A man with his legs poking out a UFO
Curtis Mayfield’s head jutting out from behind
Funky looking words saying “Superfly.”
Snaking candy cane loops
Spelling “Sugar Hill Gang” on a backdrop of baby blue.

“I see no changes.”
I heard your ranting as I turned the pages
Of the Civil Rights Chronicle
Next to a book about Angela Davis.

It felt like a dream,
When I found those hidden magazines—
Every single one you told me not to read.

You had the posters on the wall:
Photos of Janet and the cover
Of Marvin Gaye’s “I Want You” record.
One with each element of Earth, Wind & Fire,

A memento of our first concert ever,
When you lifted me on your shoulders,
Above the crowd, in the clouds
Where I could see too,
From your point of view.
It was just me and you.

I stopped what I was doing, feeling the guilt,
Put things back the way you left them.
Deep in my heart, I knew I was wrong,
So I left the music room, turning the lights off.

Next day, when you bumped N.W.A.,
I asked you how the records play.
You dropped everything, showed me the lever,

Grab
It
Gent-ly
Put it close to the
Edge
If the needle broke, I’d lose my head

I transformed into a wizard when I put the needle to wax,
And cast a spell through the speakers.
There was no going back.

---

Donovan Harrell is a poet and storyteller whose work explores the intersections of race, institutions, identity and storytelling. His poetry draws experiences in Black musical, familial and institutional archives, examining how these forms of inheritance shape belonging and selfhood. Harrell also draws inspiration from hip-hop, jazz, blues, and the everyday rhythms of Black Life. As a journalist, he has written for publications across Pittsburgh and beyond, covering topics like politics, education, art and culture. He also works with organizations dedicated to uplifting Black voices in media andpreserving the histories that define Black communities. In both his poetry and journalism, Harrell investigates how stories, sound , and memory serve as living records of identity, resilience, and home.