Roy Ayers: “Everybody Loves the Sunshine”

Ayers died on March 4 in New York. The warm sound of his instrument has fallen silent, leaving an empty void. He was eighty-four years old and had been battling a long illness. His notes, once rays of sunshine in the jazz-funk and soul firmament, now float like precious dust in an endless sunset. The music world is left devastated and suspended, waiting for a final note that will never come. His vibraphone spoke directly to the heart, and every chord he played was a fragment of melancholic light—a thrill we now miss like a lost heartbeat. Roy Ayers leaves behind a bittersweet void—a silence filled with memories in which the magic of his music will forever resonate.

He was not an easy character. I remember one evening backstage at the Fez in Bari, my hometown. The club was packed with people waiting for him to take the stage. At one point, one of the organizers of the event pointed out that it was perhaps time to start. Roy looked him straight in the eye and said, “Where’s my money?” There was a moment of panic, then the money was found, and he went on stage, satisfied, and started playing “Everybody Loves the Sunshine.” Just a few words repeated in a loop—”My life, my life, my life, my life, in the sunshine, everybody loves the Sunshine”—and Ayers immediately made everyone forget his diffidence, enveloping the audience in a soft, welcoming warmth.

He is known for that legendary piece, which has been sampled by hip-hop greats and lesser-known artists alike. For example, Mary J. Blige recorded “My Life,” the title track of her 1994 album, and Dr. Dre used the same title in 2005 for his West Coast rap and G-funk style. However, Roy Ayers was much more than that. He was a sound architect and a delicate innovator who took Black music from the spiritual era of jazz to the hypnotic groove of conscious hip-hop.

But let’s start at the beginning. The loss of such an important musician, who is not even mentioned in prestigious jazz histories, deserves examination of the historical period in which his music took shape. His influence as a jazz musician with an impressive résumé played a strong role in the cosmic soul of the 1970s and the neo-soul and hip-hop of the early 2000s. From the mid-1960s onward, African-American music absorbed everything around it, blending popular music into a new genre that influenced subsequent music. It was no coincidence that the visionary and astute trendsetter Miles Davis recorded the watershed album Bitches Brew in 1969 and released it in 1970. Supporters of “crossover,” such as Herbie Mann, Ramsey Lewis, Charles Lloyd, Eddie Harris, and the late Cannonball Adderley, made their voices heard loud and clear. Electric bassists took inspiration from Larry Graham, one of the rhythmic pillars of Sly & the Family Stone, and adopted the slap technique and effects pedals in his wake. Between the assassinations of Malcolm X in 1965 and Martin Luther King Jr. in 1968, two Merritt College students, Bobby Seale and Huey P. Newton, founded the Black Panther Party in Oakland. It was 1966, and the most avant-garde jazz musicians felt empowered to support them. Ghettos were exploding from Watts to New Jersey, and music was exploding with them. To the attentive ear, the extreme sound effects used by free jazz saxophonists were not so different from the grunts of their former rhythm and blues colleagues. Even then, a dissonance was emerging between white critics (mostly European), who distinguished between noble jazz and all other black music vulgarly labeled “commercial,” and African-American critics, who considered black music one big tree with deep roots in jazz and branches extending in all directions. For those who did not live through that period, the scenario was as follows: Musicians of the first rank, such as Albert Ayler, Roscoe Mitchell, Archie Shepp, and Ornette Coleman—I do not mention Coltrane, who despite having had a strong influence on the story we are telling, died in July 1967 and cannot be considered an all-around free musician—began to gain approval and success in university circles of the white left in both Europe and the United States. Young Black people, most of whom had been drafted into the Vietnam War, were extremely politicized but decided to adopt more accessible music as the soundtrack to their social commitment when they returned home. Examples of this music include James Brown’s “Say It Loud, I’m Black and I’m Proud,” Edwin Starr’s “War,” The Temptations’ “Ball of Confusion,” Donny Hathaway’s “The Ghetto,” Gil Scott-Heron’s “Small Talk at 125th and Lenox,” Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On, Sly & the Family Stone’s There’s a Riot Goin’ On, War’s Slippin’ Into Darkness, the Staple Singers’ Respect Yourself, the Ohio Players’ Skin Tight, and Curtis Mayfield’s There’s No Place Like America Today. This music promoted black consciousness. It was soft yet hard, with lyrics deeply rooted in what was happening in society at the time. Even more apocalyptic was the vision of reality expressed by the Last Poets, a small group of street poets linked to the Black Muslims. With their first two albums, The Last Poets and This Is Madness, they captured the expressive urgency of that historical moment. They provided an excellent instruction manual for future hip-hop groups, such as N.W.A. and Public Enemy.

To complete the picture, we must acknowledge a swarm of musicians, primarily talented jazz musicians whose instrumental skills were equal to or superior to those of white rockers. They moved dexterously between jazz and funk. They emerged from a period in which the music they had cut their teeth on—jazz—had taken on the characteristics of something very complex with the advent of so-called “jazz-rock,” which later turned into fusion. This music was sacrificed on the altar of virtuosity for its own sake. These musicians decided to bring music back to the streets of the ghetto with one eye on the charts and the other on Black consciousness. Apart from the aforementioned Ohio Players, War, and Sly & the Family Stone, we must also mention Earth, Wind & Fire; Mandrill; Charles Wright & His Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band; the Fatback Band (whose “King Tim III” was one of the first rap songs in black music history, recorded before “Rapper’s Delight” by the Sugarhill Gang); the Bar-Kays; Kool & the Gang; and the Isley Brothers (which included a young Jimi Hendrix).

In this environment, the social upheavals of the time and the civil rights movement went hand in hand with music that represented their soundtrack. This created a space for a musical genre that has now returned to the forefront. This genre started as a melting pot of Latin, African, Brazilian, Asian, and Indian influences. It was music that sought connections and unity between body, mind, and soul. People spoke of “cosmic soul,” “cosmic groove,” or “spiritual jazz.” The latter term is widely used today by fashionistas and unwitting trendsetters. These were the seeds of a mixture of psychedelia, spirituality, jazz, rock, soul, funk, and so on.

It was the Woodstock era. White people were obsessed with hippie transgression. A few years earlier, Coltrane had embarked on a spiritual journey that took the music world by storm. This fertile ground allowed Roy Ayers to establish his identity and gain recognition, leading him to form a group called Ubiquity. Little Roy’s destiny was sealed at age five when Lionel Hampton gave him a pair of vibraphone mallets. Born in Los Angeles in 1940 to a pianist mother and trombonist father, the boy made that instrument the means to make his voice heard in the world.

He collaborated with figures such as Teddy Edwards, Leroy Vinnegar, Curtis Amy, and Gerald Wilson. A group like Ubiquity has a very specific historical reason behind it. At the beginning of his career in the early 1960s, the vibraphonist was perfectly integrated into the West Coast hard bop scene, also known as “Black California.” He played with important figures such as those mentioned above and learned the rudiments of the instrument from giants like Lionel Hampton and Milt Jackson. Initially, Ayers was a “pure” all-around jazz musician. However, his territory was Los Angeles, which, compared to New York at the time, had a more unpredictable club circuit, as many venues closed down as quickly as they opened. This, along with the possibility of working on Hollywood soundtracks, was one of the reasons why many jazz musicians in the area preferred studio work. At the time, it was considered more secure and lucrative, and clubs turned their attention to guitar bands that were gaining popularity with the hippie movement. In California, bands such as the Byrds, Jefferson Airplane, the Grateful Dead, Moby Grape, and the Doors emerged and found success in clubs that had previously dedicated their programming to jazz. It was terrain on which the African American idiom could not compete. Therefore, on the one hand, there was a professional and work-related contingency. On the other hand, the entry of flutist Herbie Mann into the popular group prompted Ayers—after a brief contract with Atlantic that resulted in a small series of beautiful but poorly selling albums—to look for something different. He wanted something that combined the spirituality of the era with rhythmic sensuality, precise identity, and recognizability. The latter aspect was strongly connected to a question of ethnic pride. Thus, Ubiquity was born—a project rather than a band—blending jazz, funk, soul, and a touch of psychedelia. It was 1970, and the goal was clear from the start. They wanted to tell the story of the Black world—its beauty, its struggle, and its joy—trying to bring body and spirit together by creating music capable of shifting from dance to meditation in an instant. We could sum it all up with the expression “in a beat of groove.”

Not enough has been written about Ubiquity, at least in our part of the world. However, it is fair to consider them a fundamental group in modern black music. Above all, they anticipated a sound that would profoundly influence the mixture of jazz, funk, and soul that is so fashionable today. They also laid the foundation for a cross-genre sound popular with renowned jazz musicians, such as Robert Glasper, Keyon Harrold, the late Roy Hargrove, and others, as well as with the neo-soul genre. For several reasons. First, Ayers created a bridge between jazz and popular Black music, translating the complexity and spirituality of jazz into more accessible forms without trivializing it. He created a shared sound space between the street and sophistication. Songs such as “We Live in Brooklyn, Baby” (from He’s Coming, 1972) and “Searchin'” (from Vibrations, 1976) weren’t intended to satisfy sophisticated jazz fans; they were intended for Black people and ordinary people living in the ghetto who were looking for a soundtrack to resist, love, and dream. Then, during a period of identity awakening, Ubiquity emphasized themes such as Afrocentrism, meditation, and African roots. They incorporated these themes into seductive, danceable, luminous music. Songs such as “2000 Black” (from A Tear to a Smile, 1975), “Mystic Voyage” (from the 1975 album of the same name), and “Red, Black & Green” (from the 1973 album of the same name) were true expressions of ethnic pride, combining Africa with the most futuristic soul in their arrangements. From this perspective, Roy Ayers can be considered one of the forerunners of Afro-futurism. He was less theatrical than Sun Ra or George Clinton, yet equally visionary. However, this has nothing to do with the Africa projected into the future according to thinkers such as Kodwo Eshun or Steve Goodman. Roy Ayers dreamed of a better world, not with the aggression of free jazz or the most militant funk, but with the warmth and vibrations of his instrument, underscored by the soulful voices of his backing singers. Through accessible, modern, cultured music, the vibraphonist demonstrated that instrumental quality and jazz sophistication could coexist with the desire to dance, feel, and recognize oneself.

A cult figure considered fundamental to the evolution of modern Black music is the sadly prematurely deceased J Dilla (born James Dewitt Yancey), who elevated sampling to an art form. A book could be written about him—in fact, Dan Charnas has already written one entitled Dilla Time. The slightly off-kilter beat of D’Angelo’s Voodoo is entirely his own work. Many of the insights that underpin J Dilla’s musical world are present in Ubiquity’s albums from that period. From the beginning, the band was not a fixed group, but rather a modular collective with Ayers at its center as the compositional and creative force. In addition to Ayers, who played the vibraphone and sang, there was Harry Whitaker, who arranged and played the keyboards. His 1976 album Black Renaissance is a great record. The band also included Billy Nichols on electric bass, Omar Clay on drums and percussion, Dennis Davis on drums (who collaborated with David Bowie during the Berlin Trilogy), Justo Almario on tenor and flute, and Wayne Garfield, who sang and often wrote lyrics with spiritual and Afrocentric content.

This lineup created an unmistakable sound that remains appealing today: liquid vibraphone, Fender Rhodes, a mid-tempo groove, sweet horns, and choral vocals. It was a godsend for DJs in the 1970s. Over time, there were some changes, especially when Edwin Birdsong (co-writer of “Everybody Loves the Sunshine”) joined the group between 1973 and 1975. Birdsong’s arrival accentuated the band’s funk and psychedelic vein, marking a turning point in Ubiquity’s music. His influence is especially evident in groove-oriented tracks like “Freaky Deaky” from the 1978 album Let’s Do It and “Running Away,” a 1991 track featured in the soundtrack of the British film Young Soul Rebels. Then, Puerto Rican Chano O’Ferral and Brazilians Dom Um Romão and Mayuto Correa were added on percussion, pushing the music in a more polyrhythmic direction. Dee Dee Bridgewater made a memorable appearance on “Love From the Sun,” a track from the 1973 album Virgo Red; her soulful tone blended perfectly with the band’s cosmic sound. William Allen and then John “Shaun” Solomon replaced Billy Nichols on electric bass. With these additions, the group became funkier and more colorful; the songs often sounded like soundtracks to a long summer vacation.

During the second half of the 1970s, particularly between 1976 and 1978, key albums were released in Ayers’s discography, such as Everybody Loves the Sunshine, Vibrations, and Lifeline. During this time, Byron Miller on electric bass, Ricky Lawson on drums (who later worked with Whitney Houston and Steely Dan), singers Sylvia Striplin and Debbie Darby, and Philip Woo on keyboards joined the band. With this lineup, the sound became cleaner and more disco-oriented without losing its connection to jazz and soul. In 1976, “Everybody Loves the Sunshine” became an anthem because of its hypnotic, relaxed melody and because it captured the essence of Black music as a moment of self-celebration, beauty, and peaceful resistance. With that song, Roy Ayers proved that revolution could be sweet, sensual, and luminous. His impact on the masses and his influence in bringing jazz to the general public is equal to that of his more renowned colleagues, such as Herbie Hancock and Donald Byrd.

One aspect of Roy Ayers that should be emphasized is his political awareness and Black pride, which he displayed at every opportunity. The 1972 album He’s Coming already featured a blend of Pan-African sounds and socially conscious lyrics. The album included the aforementioned track “We Live in Brooklyn, Baby,” which depicted the pride and challenge of living in Brooklyn, a predominantly Black neighborhood at the time and still today. The following year, in 1973, Red, Black & Green explicitly referred to the colors of the Pan-African flag, a symbol of black liberation. The lyrics suggested a militant content, though the festive music of the album contrasted with this. This was another characteristic feature of his music. Ayers was aware of the Black Power movement and celebrated it. At the end of the decade, he recorded Africa, Center of the World, dedicated to Bob Marley and Fela Kuti, with whom he collaborated. However, he preferred to convey this message with optimism.

However, summarizing his greatness as merely creating a bridge between jazz, funk, and spirituality, incorporating Afrocentric themes into his music, and expressing ethnic pride is reductive. One reason why Roy Ayers is considered essential, especially today, is his enormous influence on neo-soul and hip-hop from the 1990s to the present day. Let’s gloss over the rediscovery of his music by British DJs during the acid jazz period. Those of you who are familiar with my writing know of my aversion to that phenomenon. Roy Ayers was much more than that short-lived fad, and his influence on modern black music was direct, through collaborations with leading hip-hop and neo-soul figures, and indirect, through sampling, a fundamental hip-hop and contemporary R&B practice.

From a jazz perspective, the vibraphone is the ideal instrument because it is a percussion instrument that offers endless melodic possibilities to those who master it. One reason it has slowly become established in jazz is that it does not allow for the same flexibility of sound as wind instruments. It is indirectly influenced by vibrato and the force of percussion, both of which are electrically adjustable. One of Roy Ayers’ strengths was that, despite having his instrumental roots in jazz, he broke away from the instrument’s rigidity by creating a sound more closely related to the groove of soul and funk. His way of playing the vibraphone became a reflection of the Black diaspora. His influence on neo-soul and hip-hop stems from this characteristic. Late 1990s neo-soul artists, including the late Angie Stone, Erykah Badu, D’Angelo, Jill Scott, and Maxwell, drew heavily on his aesthetic. They were particularly impressed by his ability to bridge the gap between instrumental expertise and hip-hop’s beat-centric culture. In addition to citing him as a constant source of inspiration, these artists actively collaborated with Ayers. Erykah Badu reinterpreted his “Searching” live and featured him on the dreamy “Orange Moon” from Mama’s Gun (2000), a song with obvious cosmic imagery. The Roots, one of the first groups to play hip-hop without samples, incorporated his vibraphone phrasing into Malik’s rap in a track called “Proceed II.” However, the fusion of jazz and hip-hop was anticipated a couple of years earlier in 1993 by Guru of Gang Starr, who featured the vibraphonist in the Jazzmatazz project on a track called “Take a Look (At Yourself).”

Apart from his direct collaborations, Roy Ayers has literally been plundered—many of his tracks have been sampled—by countless hip-hop artists. We’ve already discussed “Everybody Loves the Sunshine” as used by Mary J. Blige and Dr. Dre. To that list, we can add Brand Nubian’s almost complete version of the song with rap, entitled “Wake Up (Reprise in the Sunshine),” which is included on their 1990 debut album All for One. Another Ayers classic, “Running Away,” provides the melodic backbone for A Tribe Called Quest’s 1989 track “Description of a Fool,” while, a year later, Q-Tip, one of the group’s rappers, built the famous “Bonita Applebum” by sampling “Daylight,” a track by RAMP (a group produced by Ayers himself). Common also sampled “Running Away” in “Nag Champa (Afrodisiac for the World)” from Like Water for Chocolate (2000). Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth directly paid homage to the piece built on the sample of Ayers’s song of the same name. However, the vibraphonist’s influence extends beyond the conscious circuit. Artists from various genres have discovered a treasure trove of sounds in his old records. These artists include beatmakers such as Madlib and contemporary soul stars such as Tyler, the Creator, who invited Ayers to play on “Find Your Wings” from Cherry Bomb (2015). Other artists include Mos Def (now Yasiin Bey) and Kendrick Lamar. In short, Ayers’s music has been a generational glue that is still being rediscovered, remixed, and celebrated today and will never go out of fashion.

To pay tribute to one of the most important—and underrated—musicians in Black music, we offer a short audio journey through what we consider the vibraphonist’s essential tracks from the 1970s and 1990s. The 1970s were the era of cosmic soul, while the 1990s were the era of sampling, covers, and reinterpretations. Some tracks echo his style and themes. The CD included with this issue features tracks from Ayers’s early career, which was more closely related to traditional jazz. Of the tracks from the early period, we recommend:

“We Live in Brooklyn, Baby” (from He’s Coming, 1972) captures the pride of living in Brooklyn and represents Ayers’s socio-political side. It has a hypnotic groove that anticipates jazz-rap.

“Red, Black & Green” (1973): Inspired by the Pan-African flag. This song also represents the vibraphonist’s socio-political side.

“Love from the Sun” (from Virgo Red, 1973) features Dee Dee Bridgewater. It is considered a precursor to acid jazz.

“Mystic Voyage” (1975) is dedicated to the recently deceased Cannonball Adderley. It is a mystical journey between dreamy melodies and funk grooves.

“Everybody Loves the Sunshine” (from the album of the same name, 1976) is a true anthem. It is Ayers’s best-known and most sampled piece.

“Searching” (from Vibrations, 1976) strikes a balance between introspection and danceability, which is typical of Ayers’ style. It was later reinterpreted by Erykah Badu.

“2000 Black” (from A Tear to a Smile, 1975) is an Afro-futuristic track. The chorus, “2000 Black is gonna be a beautiful year,” is a manifesto of hope. In 1990, the drum and bass duo 4Hero quoted it verbatim, giving rise to the 2000 Black project.

The list continues with songs by other artists moving in the same direction, testifying to the enormous influence that Ubiquity’s music had at that time:

“Expansions” by Lonnie Liston Smith & the Cosmic Echoes (from Expansions, 1975) is an invitation to expand the mind with “spiritual jazz.”

“Butterfly” (Herbie Hancock, from Thrust, 1973): fusion period Hancock. Muffled synth, a fluid bass line, and a dreamy Rhodes.

“Kalimba Story” (Earth, Wind & Fire, from Open Your Eyes, 1974): mystical tales linked to the kalimba.

“Think Twice” (Donald Byrd, from Stepping into Tomorrow, 1974): melody and R&B simplicity in jazz, later sampled by J Dilla.

“You Are My Starship” (Norman Connors, from the album of the same name, 1976): romantic Afro-futurism.

“Celestial Blues” (Gary Bartz NTU Troop with Andy Bey, from Harlem Bush Music: Taifa, 1971): spiritual jazz and Black consciousness.

“Space Is the Place” (Sun Ra, from Space Is the Place, 1973): more experimental but in tune with Ayers’s cosmic spirit.

“Mothership Connection (Star Child)” (Parliament, from Mothership Connection, 1975): funk counterpart to Ayers’s soul-jazz.

“Daylight” (RAMP, from Come Into Knowledge, 1977): written and produced by Roy Ayers.

“African Rhythms” (Oneness of Juju, from African Rhythms, 1975): irresistible mix of African percussion, funk, and jazz horns.

“Saturn” (Stevie Wonder, from Songs in the Key of Life, 1976): cosmic escape from earthly ugliness.

“Star Borne” (Johnny Hammond, from Gambler’s Life, 1974): produced by Larry Mizell; popular in the 1990s acid jazz scene.

“Galaxy” (Eddie Henderson, from Sunburst, 1975): instrumental jazz-funk steeped in cosmic aura.

Roy Ayers’ music is considered a breeding ground that is still being tapped into today, from old-school rap groups to the Soulquarian movement to modern soul stars.

Below is a list of tracks most successfully sampled and reinterpreted by hip-hop artists:

• “Bonita Applebum” (A Tribe Called Quest; sample from “Daylight” by RAMP)
• “My Life” (Mary J. Blige; sample from “Everybody Loves the Sunshine”)
• “Take a Look (At Yourself)” (Guru, with Ayers on vibraphone)
• “Orange Moon” (Erykah Badu)
• “Proceed II” (The Roots, with Ayers on vibraphone)
• “Nag Champa (Afrodisiac for the World)” (Common; sample of “Running Away”)
• “Wake Up (Reprise in the Sunshine)” (Brand Nubian; sample of “Everybody Loves the Sunshine”)
• “Searching” (Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth; sample from “Searchin'”)
• “Find Your Wings” (Tyler, the Creator; with Ayers on vibraphone)

Also worth mentioning:

1. “Book of Life” (Common, from One Day It’ll All Make Sense, 1997): includes elements of “Everybody Loves the Sunshine.”
2. “When the Sun Shines” (Common, Pete Rock, Bilal, and Posdnuos from De La Soul; from the NBA 2K7 soundtrack, 2007)
3. “Get Money” (Junior M.A.F.I.A. and Notorious B.I.G., from Conspiracy, 1995): produced by Ayers, sampling Sylvia Striplin.
4. “Chocolate Pomegranate” (Ari Lennox, from Shea Butter Baby, 2020): samples “I Wanna Touch You Baby” (1978).
5. “Groove Is in the Heart” (Deee-Lite ft. Bootsy Collins and Q-Tip, from World Clique, 1990): features a sample from “Love” (1976).
6. “Celebration” (Kendrick Lamar, Section.80, 2011): samples “Hummin’ in the Sun” (1970).
7. “Brooklyn (We Live in Brooklyn, Baby)” (Mos Def, from Black on Both Sides, 1999): direct tribute.
8. “Africa” (D’Angelo, from Voodoo, 2000): no direct involvement, but shares Ubiquity’s spiritual tone.

The vibraphonist has also been honored by renowned DJs, including Masters at Work (1996, Nuyorican Soul project) and Adrian Younge and Ali Shaheed Muhammad (2020, Jazz Is Dead project).

What more can be said about the greatness of such a musician? One can only wonder why Ayers continues to be conspicuously absent from the “official” history of jazz despite his enormous influence on Black music. He is never mentioned alongside the “giants” and is never celebrated in academic circles. It’s as if his choice to speak to the hearts of the people rather than the elites came at a price. Yet his work is everywhere, even where the manuals are silent: spread like pollen in the grooves of records, in the samples of beatmakers, and in the choruses of soul voices. Roy Ayers didn’t ask for permission to be remembered; he simply let his music vibrate. Anyone who has closed their eyes while listening to “Everybody Loves the Sunshine” knows it.