LIVING COLOUR The New York–based flagship band of the ’80s black rock movement was turned down by every major record label—until Mick Jagger offered some assistance.

BAD BRAINS Widely considered to be one of the greatest live bands ever, the D.C.-to– New York transplants helped inspire Living Colour and Fishbone, among many others.

VERNON REID (guitarist, Living Colour): I was born in
London and my parents are from the Caribbean, so
there were all these crosscurrents. My mom was a fan
of the Dave Clark Five and British Invasion music.
CHUCK MOSELY (lead singer, Faith No More, 1983–1988):
I was adopted and mixed. I never really fit into any-
thing. But having Creem magazine and hearing the
Ramones when I was 14 completely blew me away.
The whole alienation aspect of punk spoke to me—I
was already alienated.
ANGELO MOORE (lead singer, Fishbone): I lived in a
white neighborhood [in Los Angeles]. In the house
we had soul food, black music, and black TV shows
like Sanford and Son. Outside of that, I’d go to school
with all the white boys and hear Led Zeppelin. “Stair-
way to Heaven” was one of my favorite songs, and
“Strawberry Fields Forever,” too. When my family
traveled across country, we’d listen to Billy Joel: “Sing
us a song, piano man!” It had energy.
RICK SKATORE (bassist, 24-7 Spyz): Black music had
a different presence [in the ’60s and ’70s]. It was
rare that you saw a black act on television. But I
remember watching A Hard Day’s Night as a child,
and there were four guys with instruments and girls
were screaming. I was like, “Wow, I can make girls
scream if I get one of those?”
JIMI HAZEL (guitarist, 24-7 Spyz): I got branded as “odd”
early on. In junior high in 1976, my friend and I were
the only black kids in school who had the Kiss logo
on our jackets. After Jimi Hendrix’s death, I began
tying scarves around my leg and head in his honor,
and some kids picked on me.
COREY GLOVER (lead singer, Living Colour): My parents
were playing Santana and Return to Forever in our
house in Crown Heights [Brooklyn], and as a way
to rebel, I turned to the rock station. I found Thin
Lizzy, Jeff Beck, and Led Zeppelin. Then I saw [black
actor] Carl Anderson in Jesus Christ Superstar. He was
singing rock’n’roll. That changed my whole thing.

GREG TATE (author, musician, Black Rock Coalition
cofounder): You had this incredible period between
’ 69 and ’ 75 of all these black and multi-ethnic
rock bands: Earth, Wind & Fire; Funkadelic; War;
Mandrill.
HAZEL: In the early ’70s, every R&B band had to have
a guitar player with a wah-wah pedal.
SKATORE: I saw Sly and the Family Stone in concert
as a kid. [Bass player] Larry Graham came out with
a bass that had mirrors on it.

The first stirrings of a new movement begin in the late ’70s with D.C. reggae-hardcore Rastaheads Bad Brains and L.A. boogie rockers the BusBoys. Fledgling musicians begin to take note.

MOORE: The Bad Brains would go from punk rock
straight into reggae. I thought, “These white boys are
bad. This shit sounds crazy.” And when I found out
they were black, I went, “Hell, yeah! If these dudes
can do it, I can do it, too!”
MOSELY: The early punk scene [in L.A.] was a lot of
rich Jewish kids, a bunch of blacks, and Mexicans.
The whole white, middle-class thing didn’t take hold
until Orange County.
HAZEL: I remember putting on the BusBoys album
[1980’s Minimum Wage Rock & Roll] and thinking,
“Thank you.” That said, “It’s okay to do this.”
MOORE: My big punk experience was seeing the Dead
Kennedys [who at the time had a black drummer,
D.H. Peligro] around 1984. I had my Jheri curl and
my pop-lockin’ outfit. I jumped up in the air and the
floor opened up and I landed directly on my knee.
That was my introduction to punk rock.
REID: I was really trying to conform [in Brooklyn].
It was, “Okay, I’m gonna be a normal musician, do
the dance steps.” But rhythm and blues felt very
artificial. Kool & the Gang started with “Jungle
Boogie” and went to…“Joanna”? When one of the

funkiest groups is making a concerted effort to not
be—it was weird.
GLOVER: An ex-girlfriend of mine had a birthday
party [in 1984], and Vernon was there.
REID: My sister said, “You never do anything! You
never go out with me! I’m going to this party and
you’re coming!” Life turns on a dime.
GLOVER: I sang “Happy Birthday” to her, and Vernon
came up to me and started a conversation: “Yeah, I’m
in this band, and I’m a guitar player.” I was saying,
“What I really want to do is sing in a rock band.”
TATE: Corey was Vernon’s Robert Plant. If you wanted
a voice that went from gospel screaming to R&B
whispering to punk freak-outs, Corey could do all of
that at the drop of a hat.
MOSELY: A couple of times I filled in [with Faith No
More] when they didn’t have a singer. That was the
funniest part, because I couldn’t sing. I would try to
croon like David Bowie, since he was my favorite
singer, but I didn’t know what I was doing. I decided
to rap because I couldn’t make heads or tails of their
music. So the combination of being a bad singer and
a bad rapper forged itself into my style.
HAZEL: The original concept of Spyz was surf music
on dust. Drum machines had taken over black
music, and everything was “Baby, baby, I love you.”
We decided to rebel against it. We rehearsed in our
drummer’s house in the South Bronx, on the top floor,
and people would say, “What the fuck is going on up
there, man? That’s some crazy-ass shit!”
MOORE: When people would first see us, they’d think
we were gonna play R&B. The white people would
stay, but the black people would end up leaving.
When black people hear music that’s past a certain
tempo, they have to think too much to dance to it,
so they don’t try.
MOSELY: In Boston and a couple of places down
South, we’d have skinheads up front. [I heard] “Get
off the stage, nigger!” a couple of times.