It’s an album you need when stuck in traffic on a scorching hot day, almost as vital as air conditioning. The album sounds less like actual paradise than it does the Utopian fantasy of summer through the lens of an urban prism. R egardless of what concrete and steel pressure cooker you happen to live in, these are ten tracks as refreshing as a cannon ball dive into a outdoor public swimming pool. It’s a record as quintessentially California as the Hollywood sign, from an LA-raised, Brooklyn-adopted artist who as far back as 1963 was debuting with an album called West Coast Vibes. But “Everybody Loves The Sunshine” is by far Ayers’ most famous song, and the album of the same name–which turns 40 this year–might be his most cherished LP just by association. He’s carved a mean score for blaxploitation joint Coffy (1973), and cut the joint classic with Fela Kuti, Music of Many Colors (1980). He’s done everything from free-wheeling jazz to lean R&B. Lyrics don’t come fully-formed when your buzzed on the hot sun and cold Heineken.Īyers should have his own stamp by now. “Just bees and things and flowers,” he sings smoothly, his voice flanked on both sides by Las Chicas and Chano O’Ferral. But has there ever been a more blissful sales pitch for the season than “Everybody Loves The Sunshine?” Roy Ayers could probably sell you seafront property in Nebraska. The bugs are out in force, public transport is hell, and my garden looks like something out of Jumanji. When the sun isn’t frying you to ash, the low cloud and humidity is baking you to a crisp. “Everybody Loves The Sunshine” is a song so intertwined with his memories of the palm-treed pavement of his home city, it’ll forever be intertwined with Dre’s legacy. The California sun is under his skin, embedded in his DNA.
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Dre himself flipped Ayers’ groove into the unreleased circa-1995 joint “My Life,” seeing Doc fill his glass with Hennessey, spark a blunt, and reminisce over the same period of time the glossy Hollywood movie would depict two decades later.
“Everybody Loves The Sunshine” has been sampled so regularly, it’s got its own chapter in the hip-hop playbook.
It connected the sound of seventies Los Angeles to NWA’s Molotov cocktail set to hit eighties South Central. The band’s cool piano chords, spaced-out key riffs and lazily-rapped congas offer a refuge from the chaos and violence of previous scenes. Ringing through his headphones is Roy Ayers’ smooth classic “Everybody Loves The Sunshine.” As the track spins, Dre closes his eyes and drifts away. Teenage Dre is seen laying on the floor of his Compton bedroom, entombed in the records that supplied an extensive musical education. The future headphone hawker’s introduction in the movie is just as telling. Dre might not have been totally dishonest, but he lasered away the warts. Dave Chappelle once joked that making a movie about your own life brings the temptation to lie. Last year’s Straight Outta Compton ( which Dre co-produced), opens with the beat from his “Talking To My Diary” and ends with the Good Doctor dramatically exiting the bleakness of Death Row towards the light of Aftermath.
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