Richard “Kush” Griffith is blind, crippled and hostage to kidney dialysis. He’s got arthritis, spinal stenosis, a heart condition, a torn rotator cuff and a list of other physical ailments that’s long, nasty and often takes him down, way down.
He spends most of his time in his small apartment in Aurora, his gold records on the wall, his trumpet by his side.
The past was a lot more fun.
Back in the day, Kush was James Brown’s music director. He played with the Commodores, the Jackson 5, Marvin Gaye, Parliament, Funkadelic and Bootsy’s Rubber Band, among others.
He loved it – the travel, the performing, the music, the lifestyle.
In fact, he loved it too much.
For years, he ignored symptoms of diabetes and kept performing, kept partying.
Then, gradually, he started to lose it. His vision went first, then his stamina, his kidneys and, finally, his career. Now all he has left is the music.
“I’m always humming,” he said, “always writing music.”
Last spring, he scraped together money to record a CD. He had enough new music for two discs but picked the best tracks and saved the rest. He called it “Kush & His Blues Meet Funk Mediocre.”
Don’t ask. I can’t explain it. I’m not that hip, but Kush, who’s a big fan of the Black Eyed Peas, is.
In July, he decided he wanted to do a live gig to promote the recording.
Soon he had a venue and a band and was rehearsing all the time. He was stoked.
Then his body betrayed him.
“I started having trouble with glaucoma pressure behind my eyes,” he said. “Of all things, for a blind man.”
The pain was intense. “I decided it was time to pack it in.”
So, reluctantly, he canceled his show via e-mail.
“Yo, Kush fans,” he wrote. “It is with much apologetic regret that I inform the whole beautiful lot of you the slightly advertised gig … has been postponed for now. … Thank you all for your love and anticipation …
“Sincerely, your funkbrother.”
Instead of basking in stage lights, Kush went under operating-room lights. Giving up the gig “was a hard pill to swallow,” he said. “I was just about to pull it off.”
Kush is recovering from the surgery and looking forward to one last chance to play in Denver before he and Paulletta, his companion and third ex-wife, move home to Kentucky on Nov. 1.
“Paulletta and I are both getting older, and we have no family here. We have several good friends, but I don’t want to put myself in any kind of position to impose on them.”
One of those friends is throwing a farewell party for them, and Paulletta said: “Whether he feels good or not, Kush is going to blow that horn that night.”
Then, he plans to attend his 40th high school reunion in Kentucky in November and hopes to play some there too.
“We’re going to party like it’s 1966,” he said.
Through illness, pain and disability, he still lives for the chance to feel the emotional connection with an audience. His last gig was in May at the Fillmore Auditorium with George Clinton.
“It was a cameo appearance. I was in my (wheel) chair, and George Clinton was my microphone stand.” Clinton’s band was “playing in one of my least-favorite keys, B natural – everything’s sharp – but a performer is not supposed to make excuses, so I played, and I did OK.
“I didn’t perform for long, but there were some older guys in the band, even some guys I’d hired in the past, and they formed a semicircle around me on stage.
“It was an old song, ‘One Nation Under Groove,’ and they had changed the introduction to some real slow blues, so it was right up my alley. At the end, I stood up and did a dance, the Funky Four Corners, and the house just lost it.
“I’m a natural-born ham.
“Everybody loved it,” he said, his voice trailing off. “They loved it. It was great.”
Kush Griffith’s CDs are available on his website: kushsights.com.
Diane Carman’s column appears Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. She can be reached at 303-954-1489 or dcarman@denverpost.com.
