Ode to a Familiar Stench

Alas JUNK studio has finally become a junk pile. First its neighboring buildings burst into flames underneath the highway a few months ago and soon thereafter it was run roughshod by tractors and who knows whats. It is now a pile of rubble. It was where Kupa’aina and Kototama (among many other well known and unknown musical and metaphysical artists) initially got much of its start in the record industry. It was first at the old Kodak Building on Kapiolani which was then decimated it then moved to its home on Old Waialae road underneath the highway where it again has been destroyed. Its proprietor Babatunji Heath a former member of Kototama and Kupa’aina sit in drummer and his wife Maggie Chang have since moved to Hong Kong. Memories of Monday night Junk Jams will forever be a part of the musical memory of members and former members of Kototama. Junk Music will also be part of my career as an entertainment attorney for it was part of my first actual and successful trial based won on the general premise that junk is junk its has no objective monetary value it is only what you do with it and what it does to your heart that matters. In the rubble you can probably find signs of every type of drug and drug paraphernalia (natural and synthetic) in existence as well as every type of bodily fluid that could be secreted, smashed, stabbed, punched or pounded out of a human body including your soul. I would not be surprised if there was a body buried somewhere on the lot. Along with the drug paraphernalia and bodily fluids went the wonderful business of the door to door Hoover sales office, a combination football-basketball-ultimate-fighting ring, various kung fu and punching bag apparatus, punk, metal and reggae symbols, name stickers, badges, trashed music hardware, dead rats and various and sundry carcasses, typhoid and plague infested couches, some natural healing store?, and an international porn shop. The only remaining thing I have is the key which still sits under my car seat along with the roaches that have moved off that lot and into my car. Long live the legacy of Junk Music. As I drive past this place I think fondly of those good times for they will forever play a part in my own personal mythology, I roll down my window and spit in salutation.