Growing up in Brooklyn, New York in the 1970s, he played guitar in a band called Wajang, along with 3 other friends from South Shore High School. We rehearsed in a basement on East 93rd Street in the East Flatbush section. It was in the summer of ’72, during a rehearsal break, that when my bandmates came out onto the sidewalk to get some air, we heard this guitar work screaming that it was pure talent. It sounded like the Fillmore East at show time. We looked at each other and instinctively ran around the corner to locate the source of the most amazing mix of fusion, rock and blues we had ever heard. The solos were clean and sustained with touches from Larry Coryell, John McLaughlin and Johnny Winter all rolled into one.

Our search led us to the bass player’s house. We walked cautiously through the garage to the backyard, aware that we had not been explicitly invited, although I am sure the musicians knew that such a decibel level would surely attract the attention of the neighbors or the police. In the backyard we found a four-piece band made up of Arthur and his friend Cliff exchanging guitar solos, Cleveland on bass and Adrian on drums. Standing there mesmerized and watching these amazing performances, we received a lifetime of lessons compressed into a two-hour jam session. They played some original tunes and some covers of songs that sounded better than the originals while Arthur and Cliff took turns starting. We introduced ourselves and wasted no time telling you how much we appreciate meeting you. We soon learned that these guys were not only committed to their craft, but they were fans of their type of music. Arthur was the leader at 15 and, as we were going to learn, a prodigy not only on guitar, but also on keyboard and saxophone.

I stopped by Arthur’s rehearsal a few more times to observe his practice routine. He trusted that at least 8 hours a day was his standard. He had something in his head that was beyond the specific instrument he was playing at the time. You could see him trying to make the instrument play what he was hearing in his head. He played these bursts of notes on the guitar peppered with wild curves that defied the physical geometry of the instrument. He looked more like a painter than a musician. He made sophisticated statements in extensive sound samples, but just when you thought he was pushing the limits with sheer technical magic, he resolved in the most poignant expressions what would make Carlos Santana proud. His fingers were a blur of motion as he attacked the fretboard.

He came to our rehearsal once and we were honored that he stopped by and saw our band. When he entered there was a deathly silence. In our band we used vocals, horns and guitars and played a mix of dance music, rock, reggae and some Tower of Power and Ronnie Laws. Arthur couldn’t resist sitting down. He took out his guitar and plugged it in while we went over some of our tunes. That was the first time I had ever seen someone do a fretted hand tapping technique with their fingers resting on the fretboard like a pianist. Arthur was famous for his wild fusion riffs, but that night he did his best as we went from genre to genre. He was in the zone and seemed to be using the entire basement floor to do his guitar performance. He would crouch down to squeeze the scent off the high ropes and then jump sideways to play another burst followed by a jump and a forward jump for another volley. What a performance. Before he left, he told me that he knew I loved the Stratocaster, but that he thought I would be more comfortable with a Les Paul. He then wanted to know if I had been complying with my practice regimen as we had discussed. I thanked him for his advice and recognized that I needed to work harder.

Arthur lived for music: everything else was secondary. It seemed strange to all of us to receive advice from a younger player, but he was talented and when he spoke everyone listened. The way he expressed his talent certainly required an understanding that was far beyond his years.

Unfortunately, Arthur Rhames passed away in 1989 at the age of 32 after having touched the lives of many musicians who were lucky enough to meet him. May he rest in peace.