Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
🌹
The first time I ever heard Adonis sing, it never crossed my mind that I would ever play in his band-much less that he would one day become my beloved husband.
I was playing guitar in a reggae band fronted by another young singer, Dorian Pettigrew. Even though Adonis lived in Virginia Beach, about forty-five minutes from Hampton, he and Dorian had become friends, partly because there were so few younger men in Reggaeton music at that time. One day, Dorian asked me to listen to Adonis's new album, Preciosa, and tell him what I thought.
I looked at the album cover. Pretty cool-looking guy, I thought, studying his bleached, curly hair and cold hazel eyes. I flipped the album over and saw a picture of the whole band, which included Adonis's sister Mercedes, on drums and his brother, Angelo, on bass. The musicians were young and dressed hip for the times, especially for a Reggae group.
"They're pretty cool looking," I told Dorian.
"He was just nominated for the 1988 Reggaeton Male Vocalist of the year," Dorian told me with a trace of envy. "His brother was nominated for Reggaeton songwriter of the year."
Listening to the album, I knew instantly why Adonis and The Delegation were rising to the top in the Reggae world. Adonis's voice was outstanding, and this group was adding unique sounds to traditional reggae music.
Not that I was an expert or anything, though.
I grew up in a very religious household, only listening to what my mother deemed appropriate. I was new to the intricacies of the reggae world, and in fact I often felt like an imposter. I was a sixteen-year-old rock guitarist, who was already different just because of the fact that I had boobs and most rock guitarists didn't, if you know what I mean. My favorite groups included typical rock bands like Queen, Prince and the Revolution, and Mother's Finest. My initial reaction when my high school friend Sheila Pettigrew first tried to convince me to join her cousin Dorian's band was foot-dragging resistance.
Reggae music had been but a small part of my childhood as a young, black girl growing up in the south, but it was the only kind of music that I seriously disliked. When I was a little girl riding in the car with my grandfather, he'd put on reggae music on the radio and I'd be in the backseat covering my ears, shrieking, "Noooo!" It just always seemed very scary, as some of the singers would scream and holler into the microphone, and I could never really piece together what they were saying through their thick accents.
But Sheila had caught me at a weak moment, and despite my dreams about running away to Los Angles and starting a kick-ass rock band, I was still living at home with my mother, who didn't think I was ready for college yet, after graduating high school early, and the only work I could find was doing alterations at the local seamstress's place, who just so happened to be my aunt. Sheila's certainty that we could actually make money playing music--even if it was Reggae music at dances and weddings--convinced me to accept her offer.
Sheila, Dorian, and the band schooled me in songs by Toots and the Maytals, Steel Pulse, and Third World--all great reggae groups that had emerged way before our time. When I first started playing with Dorian, I couldn't tell the difference between one group and the other. After a few months, though, I got so familiar with the music that I could tell in about four seconds of hearing something who was playing it. Reggae groups all had their individual sounds, just like musicians in any other genre, believe it or not.
At that time, Reggaeton music was like this big wave building, and we were all on surfboards. We didn't know just how big that wave was going to get, but we were all determined to ride it as far as we could.
The new, younger musicians used powerful sound systems and staged their shows with flashy lights; they wore long hair in braids and dreads, and they dressed in either spandex or regular jeans and t-shirts--there was no in between. Reggae music was transforming into something fresh; it certainly wasn't the same tired sounds that I used to hear in my grandfather's car. And Adonis and The Delegation were clearly unique. I knew as soon as I heard that album that they were pushing the envelope by fusing traditional reggae music with rhythm and blues, Colombian cumbia, hip-hop, and pop.
As I listened to Adonis and The Delegation with Dorian, I read the credits on the album cover, shaking my head when I saw that Adonis and his brother Angelo had not only arranged and produced this album, but had written all of the songs. Sure, Adonis had a beautiful voice, but it was his production skills that first impressed me. I had become Dorian's musical director by default when Sheila left the band; Adonis and Angelo were doing what I fantasized about doing someday as a major female producer and songwriter.
"Wow," I told Dorian. "They're right in our backyard. I can't believe I've never seen them live before."
"People are saying Adonis and The Delegation are gonna sign a record deal with EMI Latin," Dorian said. "You wanna come see them at my house? I have a videotape."
"Sure. Maybe we can cover some of their songs," I said.
That night, my friend Rhonda White, who sang backup with our band, drove over to Dorian's house with me. We gathered around the television in the living room as Dorian inserted a tape into his VCR. The video was fuzzy--it had been shot with a camera on a tripod--but I could tell that Adonis was already a show-stopper. He had a nice, lean but muscular figure, he could dance like no one else, and his voice was incredible. Even seeing Adonis on this small screen, I felt his command of the stage. He had the audience standing up and dancing with him, and he worked the stage from one side to another, exuding energy and charisma.
Even if I hadn't noticed Adonis's looks myself, Rhonda was determined to make me sit up and pay attention. Whenever she thought Dorian wasn't looking, Rhonda would nudge me in the side with her elbow while we were on the sofa watching the tape.
"Ooh, girl. Look at him!" She'd excitedly whisper.
"Yeah, I see him," I said.
"Oh, my gosh. Lord please forgive me for my sinful thoughts!" She giggled, while looking up above.
I didn't say anything after that.
I wasn't really looking at Adonis anymore anyway. To me, he was just another entertainer. I was a lot more focused on watching the band and analyzing the instruments.
Afterward, Rhonda and I drove home together. "Girl," Rhonda said. "Did you see that?"
"Yeah, I saw it," I said, still deep in thought about the music. "The Delegation sounded really good."
She laughed. "No, Sel. The boy in the video. He was too fine, girl!"
I laughed too, never once imagining that, in only a few short months, I would be playing guitar in Adonis's band--or that I had just seen my future husband on a VHS tape.
