In the sweltering heat of Los Angeles, where dreams are as plentiful as palm trees and just as likely to wither under the merciless sun, Melvin D’Wayne Cousin plies his trade. Known in certain circles as “The Rugged,” a sobriquet that speaks more to his resilience than his demeanor, Cousin is a bass player of no small repute.
Cousin’s story is not unlike that of many who find themselves drawn to the siren song of music. Born in San Bernardino, a city more famous for its bankruptcy than its cultural exports, he discovered at the tender age of eleven that music offered an escape from the mundane realities of life. It was a passion that would shape the course of his existence, leading him down a path both exhilarating and treacherous.
Now, ensconced in the City of Angels, Cousin has carved out a niche for himself with his band, “Official Biz.” They are a fixture on the casino circuit, that peculiar American institution where fortunes are won and lost to the accompaniment of cover bands and cocktails. It is a far cry from the glittering stages of Hollywood, but Cousin approaches each performance with the gravity of a command performance at the Royal Albert Hall.
Despite the sometimes tawdry nature of his venues, Cousin has managed to rub shoulders with the luminaries of the music world. Marcus Houston, Jon B., Howard Hewitt – names that evoke a certain nostalgia for those of a certain age. Yet Cousin wears these associations lightly, understanding perhaps that in the fickle world of entertainment, today’s headliner is tomorrow’s opening act.
In his private moments, Cousin finds solace in the company of his keyboard player and paramour, Bunny Hearts. Together, they lose themselves in the music of Prince, that diminutive giant of funk who cast such a long shadow over the musical landscape. It is in these moments, away from the glare of the stage lights and the clamor of the slot machines, that Cousin seems most at peace.
Recently, Cousin has become enamored with a device known as the Nitewalker Bass Guitar Tube Preamp. It is a curious contraption, promising to unlock new realms of sonic possibility. Whether it will prove to be the key to greater success or merely another fleeting fancy in the ever-changing world of musical gadgetry remains to be seen.
As I observed Cousin during one of his performances, I was struck by the quiet dignity with which he approached his craft. There was no showboating, no attempt to draw attention to himself. Instead, he seemed content to provide the foundation upon which the rest of the band built their sound. It was a reminder that in music, as in life, it is often those who seek the least recognition who are most deserving of it.
In the end, Melvin D’Wayne Cousin’s story is one of perseverance in the face of indifference, of finding beauty in the mundane, and of holding fast to one’s passion even when the world seems intent on grinding it down. It is a story as old as music itself, yet one that never fails to resonate with those who have ears to hear it.
Renaissance (feat. Dr. Fink & Official Biz.)
