Michael had pulled out a series of 10”s, mainly jazz from the 40s and 50s, and a couple on Blue Note. They were his father’s, he told me, and his father was a great jazz fan and a heroin addict. Don’t get caught up in drugs, his father told him. You’ll love them more than you love anything in the world. Michael smokes some weed, and that is because he likes it, but he does acknowledge it helps him with the pain he feels from the lasting effects of his surgeries and radiation. I asked him how old his father was when he died, and Michael said he was 65, one year older than he is now. “And if I do anything, I’m going to outlive him,” he joked, and he handed me another a couple of records that he thought I might like, one by Glenn Miller and the other a copy of Eugene McDaniels’ ‘Headless Heroes of the Apocalypse.’ The Coltrane side ended, and I told Michael that fortune was smiling on us. He asked what I wanted to listen to next, and I put on the Steve Kuhn album I’d pulled the first time I was here. I know every word on this album, the great Steve Kuhn vocal album, panned by Downbeat, Madlib once told me, in an issue in which ‘Supersax plays Bird’ received raves. That Supersax record was in Michael’s shelves and it stayed here. As Kuhn’s “Time To Go” came on I swore I heard Michael singing along. There was nary a record I showed him that he couldn’t reference.