Latest news with #FourTops
Yahoo
25-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
He was a prodigy who fell into addiction. Now KC musician lives for redemption
When you're born, born to be bad, the drugs come quick and the money comes real slow Only took me 40 years, I finally learned how to just say no. 'Born to be Bad,' Brody Buster Brody Buster played the blues — in front of millions of people — long before he lived them. On Aug. 4, 1995, he performed on the 'The Tonight Show with Jay Leno.' He was 10 at the time. After wailing away on his harmonica, he sat next to 18-year-old Alicia Silverstone, whose hit movie 'Clueless' had been released two weeks earlier, and cracked wise with Leno. Leno: 'That was great. Now, you're 10 years old, right?' Brody: 'Yeah.' Leno: 'Do you ever get the blues? How is that working here?' Brody: 'No, not me.' Leno: 'Never been to prison?' Brody: 'Nope.' Leno: 'Never served any hard time?' Brody: 'Nah, but some of my band members have.' Jail and the blues would come in time, but in 1995 the kid from Paola, Kansas, was riding high in Los Angeles. He was represented by a big-time management company and making the rounds of TV shows: 'Full House,' 'Baywatch Nights,' 'Maury' with Maury Povich and 'Crook & Chase' in addition to the 'Tonight Show.' He opened three nights for Jerry Seinfeld at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas and recorded with the Four Tops. 'Dateline NBC' even did a story on him. The kid had amazing talent on the harmonica. So amazing that blues legend B.B. King had called the then-9-year-old onto stage during a concert at the Universal Amphitheatre in Los Angeles and declared, 'Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce to you one of the greatest harmonica players of our time, despite his age, believe it or not.' He was a certifiable child prodigy. Of course, his name didn't hurt. Brody Buster was the perfect moniker for a cute, blond 10-year-old harmonica phenom. It may not be such a good fit for a 40-year-old with a meth addiction. It's safe to say that Buster long ago lost the sheen of innocence that brought him fame as a child. But as of Easter, he had found redemption. That's when he celebrated the release of his new blues-infused album, 'Redemption,' at BB's Lawnside Blues & BBQ. With about 250 people crammed into the Kansas City landmark on 85th Street, most sitting at tables littered with remnants of their Easter barbecue dinners, Buster and his band played all nine tracks from the album. He wrote seven of the songs, sang on them all, occasionally played guitar and inserted plenty of harmonica licks. The album and the redemption were more than 30 years in the making. 'In looking back at it now, I guess I really didn't appreciate what I had going as a blues musician,' he said. 'And I think in order to find that passion again, I had to leave.' Buster's journey took him into some very dark places, but it started innocently enough. His mother, a musician who played with Kansas City blues artist Cotton Candy among others, gave him a harmonica when he was 7. He blew on it constantly and quickly got so good he joined his mother's groups on stage. 'I was so young, man, they just threw me up there,' Buster said. 'I can play, and they threw me up there. I didn't know anything else. ... My parents asked if I enjoyed doing it, and I said yeah.' Things got serious when his parents, Janet and Curtis Brooks, took their prodigy to Memphis for an extended vacation. He showed off his talent among the many performers seeking fame and a bit of cash on Beale Street sidewalks, and he was one of the lucky few to be discovered. The emcee at B.B. King's Blues Club was impressed enough that young Brody earned an invite to play at the club. The connection to King led the family to Los Angeles, where he made his many TV appearances and performed with the house band at King's club there, earning the 'one of the greatest harmonica players of our time' praise from legend himself. After about a year on the West Coast, the family returned to Paola, and Brody took his show on the road. He performed in clubs around the nation and beyond. Perhaps the highlight was the 1996 Montreux Jazz Festival in Switzerland, where Brody joined Quincy Jones and Chaka Khan on stage and was included on the album 'Quincy Jones: 50 years in music — Live at Montreux 1996.' All this was heady stuff for a Kansas elementary school kid. But his parents restricted Brody to gigs at reputable venues, made sure Brody got good grades and tried to keep him away from the kind of trouble that is almost a cliché among child performers. 'I'm sure they saw what had happened to other child entertainers and performers,' he said. 'But just like anybody else, 'That's not going to happen to me.' I'm sure that's what was in their heads. 'That's not going to happen to Brody.'' His mother, in fact, said almost exactly that during an interview with the Los Angeles Times. 'When he's 16 and his peers are cruising and out drinking, I don't think that will hold any attraction for him because he's seen what it really does,' Janet Brody said. 'We always point out the artists who ended their careers sadly and too soon by overdosing or drinking too much.' Danielle Nicole, an internationally recognized blues performer from Kansas City, provided backup vocals on a couple of songs on 'Redemption' and joined Buster onstage at BB's Barbecue on Easter. 'In my musical opinion, he's one of the best harmonica players alive. Period,' she said. 'Not just for blues, not just for American, not just for regionally, just in general.' Nicole has known Buster almost since the beginning of his career, when both were what she called 'blues kids' plying their trade at the Grand Emporium on Main Street. 'We always knew he was just insanely talented,' she said. By the time Brody was 16, however, the national and international offers were drying up. The novelty of being a child phenom had worn off, and now he had the modifier 'former' attached to it. Growing expectations replaced the fun, stress-free times of prepubescence. 'Coming out after being a child performer or a phenom or whatever you want to call it, even in your later years, people are looking at you to be top-notch,' he said. 'Anything short of that is reason for someone to say something negative. So there's definitely pressure there later on in life because you've got to meet the standard that everybody expects you to be at.' His home situation didn't help. Brody's parents had broken up, with his mother moving to Ireland and his father remarrying. Meanwhile, John Tvedten, a battalion chief with the Kansas City Fire Department who was Brody's uncle and one of his biggest supporters, died fighting a warehouse fire in 1999. (Brody's grandfather and Tvedten's father, John Sr., also a department battalion chief, had been killed in the 1981 skywalk collapse at the Hyatt Regency Hotel.) After living briefly with little adult supervision at his stepmother's house, Buster returned to California with a friend when he was 17, finding gigs where he could. Within about a year, he was back in Kansas and graduated from high school, then attended Johnson County Community College. That's when the lure of rock 'n' roll took over. 'I was just done with the blues personally at that point,' he said. 'I wanted to try other things. 'As any 18-year-old kid does, experiment with different things, I was experimenting with new music. Understandably, a blues festival wasn't going to hire a rock 'n' roll band. And I was OK with that. Unfortunately, during the time off, I got involved with bad people and drugs.' For most of the next two decades, Buster lived in Lawrence, worked at Papa Keno's Pizzeria and played in a variety of bands that performed at bars around the region. He also fathered two children and twice spent a few days in jail. In 2010, a bandmate made a documentary called 'How Did This Happen,' an account of what was then called The Brody Buster Band. Buster's first words in the film: 'I was cursed. Look at this life I'm leading.' Later: 'I was on 'Full House' and look where it got me.' And, 'I must have murdered someone in my last life to deserve this ****.' It was an honest, if not flattering, portrayal of a band of 20-something guys surviving at the very bottom of the music world. Among other things, Buster is shown doing cocaine and ranting about a barkeeper who refused to waive his beer tab. But don't get the idea the documentary showed him at his lowest point. 'That wasn't even the worst of it,' Buster says now. 'The dark stuff happened after that.' Before the worst of it came a brief resurrection. In 2017, Buster developed a one-man-band act and qualified for the International Blues Challenge in Memphis, where he took first place in the harmonica category and second in the solo/duo category. That led to gigs on the West Coast and throughout the South, plus a date at the prestigious Montreal Jazz Festival. 'That got me going a little bit for a while,' he said. He did drugs regularly at the time, but not when he was on tour. 'So I would use drugs when I was at home, and then I'd get on the road and I'd get clean. And then I'd get back home.' When COVID hit, there was no more touring — and no more getting clean. Living in a trailer in Lawrence, he did drugs — mostly intravenous meth — and not much else. Buster's life was further battered by a bad relationship and the death of his brother Tom by suicide. By the time the pandemic eased and gigs returned, he was in no shape to go onstage, showing up late or not at all. 'I never really gave up playing music,' he said. 'But I got to a point where no one would hire me because I was such a mess. 'At that point, you wonder about the decisions you made and choices you made. At that time in my life, too — and I think it's partially because my mom went to Ireland at such a young age — I was really looking to be loved by someone, and I wasn't finding it anywhere. I guess ultimately you've just got to learn to love yourself.' On July 16, 2023, his girlfriend, Tania (pronounced ta-nee-a) Zagalik, issued an ultimatum: Give up drugs or say goodbye to her and his two kids. 'I told him I was willing to move overseas to get away from him,' she said. Instead, Zagalik and her two daughters got a recovering addict for a roommate at their home in Lee's Summit. Buster went to Lawrence to retrieve his belongings and returned to Lee's Summit the next day. 'All he had was some old clothes, a beat-up guitar and his harmonica, and a cat named Huggie Bear,' she said. He's been clean since living with Zagalik, her daughters and two cats, including a much heavier Huggie Bear. 'I didn't go to any programs or anything, I just moved away from Lawrence, Kansas,' he said. 'It's a great town. I can go there, and I play shows, no problem. I still have friends there. For me, I had to get away from people that were doing drugs. That was my way to do it, just leave that environment.' He now regularly sees his own children, a 13-year-old son and an 11-year-old daughter, and has resumed a relationship with his mother, whom he had cut off for years. He and Zagalik flew to Ireland to visit her last year, and he's saving up to return with his kids. Meanwhile, Buster is focused on staying clean — he's closing in on 700 days. Keeping busy helps, he says, so he's doing just that, playing almost nightly around the region with his band or as a one-man band. He also recently performed in Deadwood, South Dakota, and Oklahoma and has upcoming dates in Colorado and St. Louis. 'I'm on a push to do what I've always done, which is play music and play music for a living,' he said. 'I don't necessarily care if I ever get famous, but I want to be a working musician the rest of my life. And I'd like to be a touring musician.' Buster has a lot of people pulling for him, including childhood buddy Danielle Nicole. 'When you hear him play harmonica, you know that he's meant to be a musician,' she said. 'So to be able to see him releasing music and feeling good about being sober and be in a good place, it just warms my heart.' There's also the unwavering support of Zagalik, who continues to help him stay on track. 'His past is his past. I don't hold it against him,' she said. 'I have zero reason to think he'd go back. He also knows he'll always be an addict.' I finally crawled out of the dark and back on stage I feel the struggle but I done turnt the page. 'Can You Hear Me,' Brody Buster Note: If you need help fighting addiction, call the free and confidential treatment referral hotline (1-800-662-HELP), or visit
Chicago Tribune
08-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Chicago Tribune
Donna Vickroy: I loved my mom's love of music (but if I'm still mortified by her belting out ‘After the Lovin'')
Imagine if we could 'twist again like we did last summer.' It seems like a million years since I last heard that Chubby Checker song. And it seems a million more since I last watched my mother lose herself on the dance floor to it. At the opening patter of drums, she'd spring from her seat, arms flailing, fingers snapping. It didn't matter if we were at a wedding, a backyard bash or her very last birthday party, when she was recovering from a yearlong case of MRSA and about to be diagnosed with cancer, she danced like no one was watching. Always, she was joined by my aunt. The two would twist and spin and smile to the heavens. And how I miss watching that. They say smells trigger fond memories, but nothing takes me back like music. Perhaps because my mother was more likely to spin records than stir a mixing bowl when we were growing up, I have a deep connection to the music of her era. Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, Frank Sinatra, Aretha Franklin. I am still moved by that music and still grateful for that. Recently, at a Four Tops/Temptations concert, I sang with abandon in honor of my mother. 'Sugar pie, honey bunch…' Not that she and I always saw eye to eye. We were very different humans. She was often timid and self-doubting. I believed the world was mine to explore. She was afraid to drive to new places, and absolutely terrified of the expressways. As soon as her back was turned, I was chauffeuring my friends to Great America. Meeting new people and making small talk made her nervous. I chose a career that would require me to do both on a daily basis. And while she never acquired a love or affinity for domestic skills, I've devoted a lifetime to learning as much as I can about cooking and gardening. Suffice it to say we were as different as, I suppose, many mothers and daughters are. But we shared several common interests: A love for reading, for journalism, for 'Jeopardy,' for theater and for word puzzles. And, of course, music. I have fond memories of her spinning records on the hi-fi, of us watching performances of 'Riverdance,' 'Wicked' and 'Camelot' together at downtown Chicago theaters, and of her getting down at weddings and parties. One Christmas, at Chicago's Symphony Hall for 'Christmas in Chicago,' she heeded the conductor's command to sing along, with abandon. She enjoyed music. And I enjoyed watching her enjoy it. As kids, we'd often catch her belting out the wrong lyrics. And, as kids are known to do, we'd laugh and then correct her. 'Mom, it's 'you can call it another lonely day,' not 'you can call it thunder lonely day.'' Or, 'Mom, it's 'rock me, rock me, a little while,' not 'doo-wop, doo-wop, a little while.'' Music serves many purposes. It can comfort, energize, commiserate, and, if you're a teenager with a mom who doesn't hold back, embarrass the tarnation out of you. It's mortifying to hear your mother belt out Engelbert Humperdinck's 'After the Lovin'' or Barbra Streisand's 'You Don't Bring Me Flowers,' especially if she and your dad have just had a loud argument. During our teen years, music became a source of friction between generations. Although my mother had a broad tolerance for 'controversial' topics when it came to books and motion pictures, there was one theme she would not allow: Anything that promoted or normalized drug use. The politics of the day warned repeatedly about the dangers of gateway drugs and, like a DEA agent, my mother was on top of it. One Saturday afternoon, my brother was playing Blue Oyster Cult in his bedroom. 'Agents of Fortune' spun on the turntable behind a closed door. In the kitchen, my mother paused her cooking, crooked her head to give a listen and then sprinted to shut this 'insanity' down. Bang, bang, bang on the bedroom door. 'Stop that song right now,' she yelled. My brother cracked the door and asked why. 'I know what they're saying. I won't have that kind of music in my house,' she screamed. I joined the argument in defense of the album. 'What kind of music?' I asked. 'That drug stuff. 'Come on, baby, let's go share some reefer!'' she sputtered. 'Turn it off now.' My brother and I burst into laughter, which only made her angrier. 'Turn. It. Off,' she yelled. 'Mom, they're not saying, 'Share some reefer,'' my brother said, showing her the liner notes. They're saying, 'Don't fear the reaper.'' She scanned the words, paused to consider and silently turned on her heel. Years later, while I was driving her to the mall, Blue Oyster Cult came on my car radio. As we turned into the parking lot, I heard my mother croon, 'Seasons don't fear the reaper. Nor do the wind or the sun or the rain.'
Yahoo
26-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Esther Gordy Edwards Centre unveiled as Motown Museum expands Detroit footprint
With an infusion of music from young performers, the Motown Museum family welcomed its newest addition Friday — on the birthday of the institution's late founder. The Esther Gordy Centre Edwards Centre for Excellence was unveiled during a bright evening of cocktails, dinner and music as about 150 Motown alumni and museum partners gathered at the facility for a first look. Located at 2550 W. Grand Blvd. — just down the street from the museum's main campus — the two-story building is an impressive multipurpose site, with a 20,000-square-foot first level serving as an extension of Hitsville Next, the museum's creative and educational hub. For folks who have spent decades experiencing the Motown Museum inside the relatively tight confines of its century-old West Grand Boulevard houses, the roomy new facility feels downright transformational. Friday's launch event was bristling with the energy of a historical museum that has firmly planted its feet in the future. 'To actually have a place for us to create (signifies that) Motown isn't a thing of the past, but is still living and breathing today,' said Mikhaella Norward, winner of the museum's 2019 'Motown Mic' spoken-word competition. 'This is a very special space for us.' While not open to the public beyond special events, the Edwards center marks the museum's visible, growing footprint along the boulevard. And it comes amid a multibillion-dollar flurry of development in that corridor, including nearby expansion by Henry Ford Health. More: Motown Museum grows again: New Esther Gordy Edwards Centre houses music, research spaces Friday's guests got to tour the assortment of new studios and workshop rooms where Hitsville Next's young singers, dancers, poets and summer campers will operate. Each space bears the name of a key behind-the-scenes Motown figure, including etiquette trainer Maxine Powell, producer Harvey Fuqua, songwriter Gwen Gordy and music director Maurice King. Inside the Cholly Atkins Rehearsal Hall — named for the beloved Motown choreographer — several Hitsville Next performers entertained guests with briskly arranged renditions of Temptations and Four Tops classics. Monitors stationed throughout the first floor beamed vintage Motown video, while a breakroom was lined with wall-sized reproductions of classic concert posters. And then there was the spacious main hall, which will host community programming and Motown Museum special events — like the Friday dinner and mini-concert for guests ranging from the Miracles' Claudette Robinson to former U.S. Sen. Debbie Stabenow. Upstairs is a research hub, home to the museum's curatorial staff. It eventually will open to visiting scholars. The spirit of Edwards was a prevailing theme Friday night: Born April 25, 1920, she was an older sister of Motown Records founder Berry Gordy, and launched the museum in 1985 at Hitsville, U.S.A., the company's original studio and headquarters. The refurbished building now named in her honor comes amid a yearlong 40th anniversary celebration of Edwards' efforts. Distinct from the Motown Museum's ongoing $75 million expansion, the property that became the Edwards center was purchased in 2022 with funding from an anonymous donor. The building had been a longtime home to an upstairs church and a first floor dedicated to television facilities for national broadcasts of services. The structure was gutted and renovated in a project overseen by museum board member Levi Stubbs III, son of the Four Tops' late lead singer. Plenty of work remains — from furniture to outdoor signage — but 'we didn't want to let today go by,' museum chairwoman and CEO Robin Terry said of her grandmother's birthday. Motown: Motown's Tamla Records to return with new artists and 'positive, life-changing music' 'There's something extra special in the air tonight as we open this space,' said Terry. 'All of us are here celebrating Esther Gordy Edwards.' Some guests had jetted in from L.A., including Kerry Gordy, Iris Gordy and the Miracles' Robinson. Others — like Paul Riser, Pat Cosby, Jackie Hicks, Miller London and members of the Temptations' and Four Tops' families — were familiar figures from Motown's hometown scene. Stabenow, who retired as a U.S. senator in 2025 after four terms in office, was among those who paid glowing tribute to Edwards. 'I'm thrilled this part of the Motown Museum is lifting her up and all she did,' said Stabenow, who in 2023 helped secure $10 million in federal funding for the nonprofit museum's nearby expansion. Friday's launch event was fittingly capped by a series of performances from Hitsville Next participants, including Jasmine Terrell, the reigning 'Amplify' competition champ who reprised her winning performance of Teena Marie's 'Square Biz,' along with 2023 winner Drey Skonie, who performed his signature cover of the Miracles' 'Ooo Baby Baby.' 'Motown Mic' champion Urban Legin'd Obasaki galvanized the crowd with a spoken-word piece that tapped Motown and gospel imagery. Addressing Friday's guests, Terry summed up the role of Hitsville Next in the new facility that proudly bears her grandmother's name: 'The talent of tomorrow exists because of the legacy that exists.' Contact Detroit Free Press music writer Brian McCollum: 313-223-4450 or bmccollum@ This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Esther Gordy Edwards Centre unveiled at Motown Museum
Yahoo
17-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Bruce Springsteen to Release 7 Never-Before-Heard Albums Totaling 83 Songs: 'I Hope You Enjoy Them'
Bruce Springsteen fans are in for a treat. On Thursday, April 3, the "Hungry Heart" hitmaker announced the release of Tracks II: The Lost Albums, a collection of seven never-before-heard albums featuring music recorded between 1983 and 2018. According to a press release, The Lost Albums "fill in rich chapters of Springsteen's expansive career timeline — while offering invaluable insight into his life and work as an artist." Related: Bruce Springsteen Pays Tribute to Late Friend Joe DePugh, Pitcher Who Inspired Hit 'Glory Days' After Chance 1973 Run-In ''The Lost Albums' were full records, some of them even to the point of being mixed and not released,' said Springsteen in a statement. 'I've played this music to myself and often close friends for years now. I'm glad you'll get a chance to finally hear them. I hope you enjoy them.' Per a press release, the "lo-fi exploration of the lost album LA Garage Sessions '83 is "a crucial link" between 1982's Nebraska and 1984's Born in the U.S.A. and echoes the drum loop and synth sounds on Streets of Philadelphia Sessions. 'The ability to record at home whenever I wanted allowed me to go into a wide variety of different musical directions,' Springsteen said of his work. Also featured in the collection is a film soundtrack for a movie that was never made, called Faithless; an LP called Inyo, which is full of "richly-woven border tales;" and an "orchestra-driven, mid-century noir" project titled Twilight Hours. Springsteen also shared a first look at the 83-song collection with the track 'Rain In The River,' which comes from the lost album Perfect World and captures the project's "arena-ready E Street flavor." "Last night, I put on my jacket and I went for a ride / Smelled sweet mustard fields, and my Colt at my side / Like rain in the river / Rain in the river," he sings on the track. Never miss a story — sign up for to stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer, from celebrity news to compelling human interest stories. Related: Bruce Springsteen Pays Tribute to Late Friend Joe DePugh, Pitcher Who Inspired Hit 'Glory Days' After Chance 1973 Run-In "The Boss" released his last studio album in 2022 with Only the Strong Survive, featuring covers of classics from the Four Tops, Supremes, Frankie Wilson, Temptations, Jimmy Ruffin and more. Additionally, the late soul icon and Springsteen collaborator Sam Moore, sang on two of the tracks. Tracks II: The Lost Albums is due June 27 via Sony Music. Read the original article on People
Daily Tribune
05-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Tribune
New Bruce Springsteen music set for June 27 release
Bruce Springsteen announced Thursday he will release a boxed set of new music this summer spanning 83 songs. 'Tracks II: The Lost Albums' is slated to drop June 27, seven complete albums recorded between 1983 and 2018, The Boss said. ''The Lost Albums' were full records, some of them even to the point of being mixed and not released,' said Springsteen in a statement on his website. 'I've played this music to myself and often close friends for years now. I'm glad you'll get a chance to finally hear them. I hope you enjoy them.' The 75-year-old released a preview in the form of the track 'Rain In The River,' an electrified arena-rock anthem. In a video clip accompanying the announcement, he said he took advantage of the pandemic to finish 'everything I had in my vault.' Springsteen last released a studio album in 2022, a collection of covers of classics by the likes of the Four Tops and the Supremes entitled 'Only the Strong Survive.'
