​Jimmy Castor was a smart aleck; a wise guy; a clean shit-talker with so much joie de vivre you had to laugh even when his truth-telling smacked you upside the head. So when he died this past Martin Luther King Jr. Day at 71 near his home outside of Las Vegas, far away from the streets of Harlem he once called home, the world lost a dependable source of laughter.

Known as the Everything Man—the E-Man (yup, he copyrighted it)—for his multitude of musical talents, Castor was one of the few cats on the planet who could legitimately be flossin' "from doo wop to hip hop" on any bling he desired and not get clowned. A quadruple threat—composer, singer, saxophonist, timbalero—the longtime bandleader wrote his first hit while in junior high, then got on the bus with the likes of Frankie Lymon, Little Richard, and Chuck Berry, made girls scream and never looked back. He played and shared the stage with many, from Hendrix to Hathaway, and traveled the globe, performing in Small's Paradise and at Madison Square Garden, on Soul Train and Johnny Carson. And by all oral, written and visual accounts, the E-Man and his sharp-dressed band tore up the stage. Eric Clapton, P-Funk, Bad Company, Kool & the Gang, Tito Puente, the Commodores: the Jimmy Castor Bunch was a difficult act to follow.

Throughout his life he put out over a dozen albums and many more 45s; millions of folks bought them, eager to take Castor's beloved Leroy, Bertha Butt and Troglodyte personas home for a spin on the turntable or 8-track. DJs and hip-hop producers also found them worthy enough to recycle; the E-Man said he was sampled more than 3,000 times, more than enough to cement his (and songwriting partner John Pruitt's) six-decade legacy.

More >>