It’s the wah-wah of the vibrating guitar. It’s the thick-fingered chords of a moaning Fender Rhodes calling for a healing touch in the night. It’s the golden-hued light hitting the glistening top of a wooly Afro rocking wild and free. It’s the trickle of sweat sliding down the glowing brown skin teasing from an open shirt to thigh hugging pants, inviting undress and caress in quiet storms.