Remembering Malcolm-Jamal Warner and Ozzy Osbourne

We lost two more genuinely one-of-a-kind human beings and artists this week.

There’s nothing I could say about Ozzy Osbourne that hasn’t been expressed elsewhere. From Black Sabbath to his solo work to The Osbournes, Ozzy’s distinct voice, cheeky humor, and showmanship contributed to a lot of personal joy. He was always a presence throughout my lifetime and I’m grateful not only for all the wonderful music he’s left us to enjoy but that he went out being able to experience how much both artists and fans still loved him.

The loss of Malcolm-Jamal Warner, meanwhile, has hit home on a level that goes a bit more deeply into the personal sphere. Malcolm was someone I had multiple real-life interactions with, and I’m still genuinely stunned at the news. While we weren’t buddies, the type of personal relationship I had with him was one that I’m certain hundreds, if not thousands, of other people had with him. It was a brief and casual bond rooted in mutual respect and a shared love of authentic art.

From the early to late 2000s, Malcolm and I crossed paths in Los Angeles arts circles multiple times. Mostly bookstores like Barnes & Noble, cafes like Lucy Florence on Santa Monica Blvd in Hollywood, and other spaces were L.A. poets and musicians were given a laboratory to experiment and go deep in celebration of pure creativity. I was a Lucy Florence regular for a while because it was a family-owned business founded around the corner from the Fountainhead Theatre where I had one of my first professional entertainment gigs while attending USC (I’d met the twin brothers who owned the cafe before they officially opened for business). Some of the occasions I saw Malcolm were during sets in which my buddy Schpilkas was performing in a group called Thee Adventures Of… and occasionally when I did solo acoustic sets as ATE 13 and later Poperratic.

Malcolm was an amazing poet and musician, as well as a beautiful human being. Brilliant, kind, caring, classy, fun, curious, joyful and humble. The people he surrounded himself with at that time seemed cut from the same cloth. Just genuinely good people, you know? This deeply personal work of his and the impression he left me with became what I associated with his name more than his acting. From the first time I saw him, I got the sense that his poetry and music were his greatest passions, and to know that work was to know a bit more about the actual person.

I feel fortunate that I had the chance to step foot into that world and receive some of the light he cast upon others. In this world, art itself was the main attraction, the reason for being, and it was more than enough for all involved. Social media had not yet become what it became, so it was easier for genuine artists and fans of art to find one another in real-world spaces where real magic unfolds and touches the receptive.

From the first run-in to subsequent attendances at shows, there were usually no more than 20-50 people max, most of the time. He would show up to watch other artists perform and be an enthusiastic spectator and, occasionally, he would later get up and perform himself. Sometimes, he’d do pure spoken word and sometimes, he’d play bass as part of a music set or accompanying his own poetry reading. And he was hella skilled. A jazz man after my own heart.

Before and after, he would converse with people. He, himself, was extremely approachable, but he was also known to come up to other people and start chatting. He also went out of his way to say hello to those of us who he had come to recognize as familiar faces. You were greeted with eye contact, a beaming smile, a hug or a vibe-filled handshake, and warm words that let you know he was genuinely appreciative of seeing you in that space again.

I hadn’t seen him in quite some time, as I stopped gigging out with the decline of the larger culture and reasonable income sources for pure creatives. But I continued to follow his career and was excited about new projects when I’d see his name, including some well-deserved Grammy Award nominations and wins for his awesome poetry and music recordings.

As much as I’m taken aback by Malcolm’s passing, I’m mostly crushed for his family and friends. I believe that I can only scratch the surface of what this loss is for them. Like Ozzy, I’m assured that Malcolm was glue for many around him and leaves a gigantic vacuum. But I hope that, in time, they’ll be able to tap into their memories, recollections from others, and the massive body of work he’s left behind and find comfort in the fortune of having known and been loved by such a beautiful soul.

I wish we would have had more time with both men, but I’m grateful that we had the opportunity to know a bit about these unique souls. I thank them for what each did to inspire more art, joy, and humor in this sometimes silly old world.