From the recording The World is a Ghetto
I don’t remember much about being 7 years old, living in our tiny one-bedroom apartment at Hillside Terrace in Southeast D.C., but I do remember trying to make sense of the song “The World Is a Ghetto.” My mom always had music playing, and she would sing along—her albums filled every inch of our little apartment, leaning against the walls near the record player. The sound system covered our tiny apartment. She would sing along with the records, her voice blending with the soul and rhythm coming from the speakers. I didn’t fully understand the song’s message then, but I felt its mood—something deep and real that spoke to me. Those moments with her, surrounded by music, became my first connection to understanding life through sound. I hope you dig my rendition of “The World Is a Ghetto”.