Bye.

Time to Settle Accounts

February 7, 2012: Bye.

After a meeting in L.A.’s Anschutz Village, I called Ben to see if I could get a ride back to the house. He arrived 30 minutes later, and I hopped in his little red Miata and buckled in as he took off. The sky was overcast with a slight drizzle; a light rain had fallen earlier in the morning.

“I don’t mind a little rain,” he said as we drove, “but if it starts to bother you we can put the top up.”

“I’m cool.”

“What are you doing now?”

“Got some transcribing.”

“I was gonna get coffee and go see Dilla. Cool?”

“Cool.”

Ben hit the gas and turned up the volume on Donuts, the acclaimed beat CD of his late hero, James “Jay Dee” “J Dilla” Yancey. The album was released February 7, 2006, Dilla’s 32nd birthday, three days before his death from Lupus. Ben began making beats in late 2005, and was immediately moved by Dilla’s output, style, and skill. When Dilla passed, Ben’s output increased, and he turned me on to Dilla’s entire catalogue, which is described at stonesthrow.com as “brief in time, but prolific in output and wide in scope.”

The rain began to fall steadily, and Ben pulled the top up at a red light. Two minutes later, we were at Forest Lawn Memorial Park, a cemetery visible from Ben’s seat at his computer, and one that is home to the remains of Michael Jackson and, of course, James Dewitt Yancey.

We wheeled in through the gates and weaved through the roadways. The cemetery is set on a large hill in Glendale, California, with gravesites up and down the hill. The roads are lined with tall pines and evergreens and the hill is green and there are fountains and statues and the Great Mausoleum.

Finally, Ben parked the car.

Donuts reverberated in my ear as we stepped on the grass and made our way down the hill toward Dilla’s grave. A young man in a grey hoodie was walking up the hill about fifteen yards ahead of us. “That’s where he is,” Ben said.

Ben led the way down the hill to the grave, and laughed when he got there. I quickly saw why: along with a flower bouquet, someone had left a box of Yum Yum Donuts at the site. In beautiful script, the stone read:

“J-Dilla”

James Dewitt Yancey

Feb. 7, 1974 – Feb. 10, 2006

One of the World’s Greatest Producers of Music

A Genius in His Own Right

The Legacy Lives On:

“It’s All Good.”

Now Ben is smiling, at the inscription, at the donuts, and he takes a photo of the gravesite, placing his foot in the photo as proof that he was there. He takes a few more pictures at different angles, and then puts his phone away. His smile fades, and is gone. He kisses his hand, bends down, touches the site. The gravestone next to Dilla’s also features a beautiful, ornate design, and I walk away to explore the cemetery and read, admire, and contemplate the other stones.

When I am about twenty yards away and a bit further down the hill, I look back at Ben. He is standing silently over the grave, looking down at it. The sky is still dreary, but a bit of sun creeps out of the clouds before nuzzling back. The hill is steep, and Ben stands with one leg in front of the other, his hair blowing softly. After another half minute he looks around the cemetery. We make eye contact and he nods toward the car, and we walk back up the hill.

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NEXT: Impressions. (2.8.12)

PREVIOUS: The laundromat. (2.6.12)

Dilla’s 50 best songs, from Andrew Barber (FSD) for Complex Mag.