Today was Nicole’s first day of “summer”–her first day of liberation from her honorable, rewarding, fun, but demanding public school job as a special education liaison between Columbia’s Battle High School and the district’s career center. I have three jobs, but I’m very part-time, very (and somewhat uncomfortably) retired, and my “year” ended on May 3–so I’d had three weeks of slovenliness, sweats, and sounds cranked to seven (I can no longer go to eleven), and it was only fair that I provide her with the music she needed.

“So…we’ve got the afternoon. What would you like to hear, my dear?” I proffered, not intending that quite inappropriate Marvin Gaye pun, over a Main Root ginger beer and Four Roses.

“Hmmm…I don’t know…you suggest something.”

See, this is a frequent dynamic in the Overeem home. I respect it, but it’s difficult to negotiate. I can awaken at 4:30 a.m., stretch, and put on some Charles Gayle at relatively high volume, then proceed with getting back under the covers, reading the news, wishing folks a happy birthday on Facebook, and more lazy awakening rituals. Like most sane and well-adjusted people who are in a relationship, Nicole likes to be consulted before I put anything on the box, but frequently she doesn’t have anything in mind–we do have 10,000 records in the house, supplemented by the full range of streaming services–and asks me for suggestions. At that point, I will default to her pleasure points (Sister Rosetta, ’50s Chicago-style electric blues, Dinah Washington, New Orleans r&b, Dead Moon/Pierced Arrows), and sometimes she’ll just give me a genre or say, “Something not too annoying.” I usually do OK within those boundaries, but should I, after several months of compliance, pick out some music without prior consultation, she will detect the transgression–even if I pick, oh, the irresistible Al Green’s Call Me.

This being a very liberated space for her, I suggested carefully. I knew she wanted something great, something not whiny, something with some power, humor, and rhythm, something to get into (yesterday) an origami groove to.

“George Clinton?”

“Bring it on.”

This entry is short and sweet, but I will close with a playlist that replicates what we jammed to for an hour or so while she folded and kept an eye on her “crockpot lasagna.” The origami, the food, and the vibe? All good. Liberating, shall we say?

There are more great songs from Clinton’s Capitol solos than the ones on the playlist–but I had to keep the groove movin’, and they’d have caused it to stutter a bit. Listening again for the umpteenth time in thirty-plus years, I am moved by Uncle Jam’s commitment not just to The One but also to GUITARS–and I wish I’d understood that “Nubian Nut” was a Fela tribute back in ’83 when I bought “You Shouldn’t-Nuff Bit Fish.”

Short-shrift Division:

Marc Sinan & Oğuz Büyükberber: White–Trouble with Apple Music is it doesn’t supply much artist or recording information.