Roy Ayers was more than music. He was a frequency, a wavelength, a pulse embedded in the DNA of Black cool. And if you were a Black kid growing up in Detroit — where his sound was pushed and heavily promoted on Black radio — then Ayers was as much a part of your upbringing as coney dogs, Belle Isle summers, and Saturday morning car washes in the driveway.

His music was the soundtrack to a warm summer night. It hummed from open windows, spilled from boomboxes on front porches, and pulsed through Cadillac speakers rolling slow down Woodward. And now, the maestro has left the stage. Ayers died on Thursday in New York City at the age of 84 after battling a long illness.

The first time I heard Roy

I don’t remember the exact moment I first heard Roy Ayers — his music was just there, like sunlight or the hum of streetlights at dusk. But I do remember the first time I understood why his music mattered.

I was a kid, maybe 11 or 12, riding in my uncle’s Cutlass Supreme. He turned up WJZZ, and suddenly, those golden keys and cosmic chords filled the car: “Everybody loves the sunshine…”

The warmth of that song hit like a July afternoon, like fresh-cut grass and melted ice cream. It was Blackness distilled into sound. It was the sonic manifestation of our joy, our pain, our resilience. Ayers sang AND spoke to us, through shimmering vibraphone notes that floated like incense in the air.

The architect of vibes

Musically speaking, Ayers was a builder of worlds. In the 1960s, he stood at the crossroads of jazz, soaking in the brilliance of icons like Lionel Hampton and Herbie Mann. But he wasn’t content to stay in one lane. He saw the future of Black music before the rest of the world caught up.

With Roy Ayers Ubiquity, he stretched the boundaries of jazz — fusing it with funk, soul, R&B, and an unmistakable cosmic spirituality. He saw that jazz wasn’t just about technical mastery; it was about feel, about translating human experience into rhythm and melody.

His music had a pulse, a body-moving urgency. “Running Away,” “Searchin’,” “Love Will Bring Us Back Together” — these were anthemic jazz-funk grooves of liberation and blueprints for a new Black sound. Ayers gave jazz its hips and he made it dance.

Seeing him live — a revelation

If you grew up in Detroit during the ‘70s and ‘80s, you lived his music. WJZZ, the city’s legendary jazz station, kept him in heavy rotation and made sure that tracks like “Mystic Voyage,” “We Live in Brooklyn, Baby,” “You Send Me,” and other choice selects from his discography were part of our daily sonic diet.

But hearing him on the radio was one thing. Seeing him live? That was a completely different experience. I had the privilege of either catching him live or hosting and introducing him numerous times at various venues.

He loved performing in Detroit and felt at home here musically. And with every show, he would pull you into the music and make you a part of it. His stage presence and musicianship, especially during his Ubiquity days, were effortless and special. He had this way of making a venue — whether a packed amphitheater or an intimate jazz club — feel like a warm family reunion in your living room, and you had no option but to vibe with him.

“Roy Ayers was a frequency shifter, a man who understood that music is more than notes and chords, and at its core, is meant to move you. And now, he belongs to the ancestors.”

The hip-hop connection

Ayers’ genius didn’t fade with time. In fact, he became even more relevant as hip-hop ascended. His catalog became a treasure trove for producers and MCs who recognized the richness of his grooves.

A Tribe Called Quest, Pete Rock, Mary J. Blige, J Dilla, Digable Planets — so many architects of hip-hop’s golden age studied Roy Ayers, flipping his beats, chopping his melodies, breathing new life into his rhythms.

To this day, you can hear his DNA in the music of Kendrick Lamar, Flying Lotus, Robert Glasper and countless lo-fi producers who use his vibraphone-laced sound as a spiritual compass.

And here’s the thing — Roy never tripped about being sampled. He loved it. He wanted his music to live on, to mutate and evolve. He once told me after one of his shows that “music is supposed to be shared, that’s what keeps it alive.”

Vibes never die

Roy Ayers was a frequency shifter, a man who understood that music is more than notes and chords, and at its core, is meant to move you. And now, he belongs to the ancestors.

It’s hard to imagine a world without Roy Ayers, but then again, we don’t have to. His music will always be here, humming through late-night DJ sets, spilling from open windows, reverberating in the headphones of kids who weren’t even born when he first picked up the vibraphone.

Tonight, I’m doing what feels right — I’m pulling out his catalog. I’ll start with Mystic Voyage, let it wash over me like it always does. Then I’ll move forward, then move backward, let the music take me where it always has — because with Roy, time never moved in a straight line anyway.

Everything else can wait.

Because while we say goodbye to the man, the music? That’s eternal. Roy once told us that “Everybody Loves the Sunshine.” And even now, even in the sadness of his passing, the light of his music continues to shine and refuses to dim. Rest in rhythm, legend.