There are moments in radio when the music becomes more than music. It becomes memory. It becomes friendship. It becomes a chapter of your life.
Over the past few days, the Caribbean music community has lost two giants—The Mighty Sparrow and Lieutenant Stitchie. Sparrow passed away at 91 on September 27, while Stitchie, born Cleveland “Cleve” Laing, passed away on September 28, just one day before his 61st birthday. Los Angeles Times
For me, this one hits differently.
I’ve spent more than 30 years behind a microphone, and when I think about my journey in radio, I realize how fortunate I have been. I didn’t just get the opportunity to play the music of these two men—I eventually got the opportunity to know them, talk with them and call them friends.
I remember when their records were simply records I played on the radio. Then, somewhere along the way, the voices coming through my speakers became voices I could pick up the phone and call.
Lieutenant Stitchie was a special kind of artist.
I watched his journey from the secular dancehall world into gospel music. This wasn’t just a change in musical direction; it was a transformation of his life. After a near-fatal accident in 1997, Stitchie embraced Christianity and eventually devoted himself to gospel music and ministry. Jamaica Observer
But here’s what always impressed me: Stitchie never lost his ability to entertain.
He could walk into a secular environment, take that microphone and still command the room. His delivery, personality, humor and storytelling were still there. The message had changed, but the entertainer never disappeared.
That ability to bridge secular and gospel audiences was extraordinary. He showed us that changing your life doesn’t mean losing who you are as an artist. His music and ministry reached people on both sides of that divide. Jamaica Observer
And then there is The Mighty Sparrow.
What can you really say about a man who built a catalog that practically became the soundtrack to Caribbean life?
Sparrow was more than a calypsonian. He was a storyteller, historian, social commentator, entertainer and master of his craft. With more than 500 songs and more than 70 albums, he created a body of work that will continue to live long after all of us who remember him are gone. Los Angeles Times
And I know something else: Sparrow’s music is going to keep parties alive.
Years from now, DJs will still drop Sparrow into a set and watch people react. Somebody will hear the first few notes, grab a partner, raise a glass and start singing along. That’s the kind of legacy you can’t manufacture.
For more than three decades, I have had the privilege of watching Caribbean music evolve from behind the microphone. I’ve played the songs, interviewed the artists, promoted the records and, most importantly, built relationships along the way.
Sparrow and Stitchie represent two very different musical journeys—but both remind me of why I fell in love with radio in the first place.
The music connects us. The memories keep us together. And the legacy keeps playing.
Rest in peace, Mighty Sparrow.
Rest in peace, Lieutenant Stitchie.
The microphones may be silent, but the music—and the memories—will never be.
