Live for the funk

A eulogy for my late uncle Brett Miles

My uncle Brett Miles passed away on Wednesday. He meant so much to me and to the rest of our family. If it wasn’t for him and his positive encouragement, I probably would’ve never gotten serious about making music. Some readers might be familiar with him from the first chapter of my book. I played my first shows as a member of his band, Magilla Funk Conduit. Uncle Brett was the first musician to see promise in my rapping. He never stopped cheering me on for the rest of his life.

My uncle suffered from Type 1 diabetes. It was a constant in his life. His later years were painful and debilitating. He had a stroke in late 2020 that caused vision loss in his right eye and lowered his heart function to 35 percent. But no matter what he was going through, he would always spring to life with excitement whenever I shared some of my unreleased new music with him.

This man loved songs and lyrics! We used to have long phone calls where I’d break down my lyrics for him or he’d talk to me about some tracks that he was feeling. He singlehandedly dispelled the stereotype of older folks losing interest in new music at a certain age for me. I loved putting him onto new artists. I showed him Aesop Rock when I was in high school and he became a diehard fan. In recent years, I introduced him to a new favourite, President T. Brett found lyrical rap mesmerizing but he could also surprise you with what he was into. He was a Paramore fanatic. His childlike joy for music was captivating and infectious.

Brett was the consummate artist. An uncompromising original. He was a world class saxophonist who lived in New York for over a decade, performing and recording with artists like James Brown, Mick Jagger, Sam & Dave, Kid Capri, Buddy Miles and more. Back then, his roommates were Don Cheadle and Jeffrey Wright. Here he is performing on the streets of NYC in 1987:

When he moved back to Edmonton, Brett started both funk and jazz groups that played his own compositions. We had a fruitful creative partnership and he always treated me like a peer, even when I was just a kid. Some of my earliest recordings are appearances on his songs “Poulet de funk” and “Party People.” We linked up again for later tracks “Good Year,” “That Funk,” “I Would Like To Thank” and “Notorious B.A.G.” (a particularly insane-sounding tune produced by me).

I’m so glad that I got to collaborate with him on my own records too. He sings backup vocals on the chorus of “Vicarious” from Breaking Kayfabe and he plays saxophone on “Jukebox,” “Small Deaths” and “Crash Course for the Ravers” on Hope In Dirt City. He was beloved in the Edmonton music scene. On top of his prodigious musical talents, he was also a prolific writer and a painter who designed his own album covers.

His wife Dani is a dancer. She was the love of his life. I looked up to them and saw them as a model for what an adult life as a professional artist could look like. He vibed with my father a lot because they shared a love of music. After my dad died, Brett became like a second father to my sisters and I. He had three sisters, three brothers and countless nieces and nephews who adored him. Brett was such an optimistic, ecstatic, joyful, loving human being who was so proud of his culture, his family and his city. It’s hard to articulate how much this man was the walking personification of good vibes. It’s like you could see his aura when he bounced around town.

The outpouring of love and grief that has come out since his passing has been an overwhelming testament to the fact that an artist’s legacy isn’t just about what they create but it’s also reflected in the impact that they make in people’s lives. When I think about Brett’s last days, beyond the fear and the uncertainty, I think about whether he had access to some tunes when he was in the hospital. Music had always been his solace, our solace. One of the things I’ll miss most is sharing music with him. So maybe when I come across something he would’ve loved, I’ll share it with you here and we can all imagine how much he would’ve enjoyed it together.

Stream the music of Brett Miles here

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• On October 14th, I’ll be playing a show at one of my favourite places, possibly the most beautiful venue in the world: Public Records in Brooklyn. You can get your tickets here

• The Wavelength shows in Toronto are happening a week from today. Can’t wait for everyone to immerse themselves in the amazing lineup and see the set that we’ve been playing at festivals this summer with all the bells and whistles! Tickets for August 26 + 27 are available here

• The Walrus published an excerpt from Bedroom Rapper where I write about my life as a teenage music critic in the early ‘00s. You can check it out here

• Hot Chip’s new album Freakout / Release is out everywhere today and I’m featured on the song “The Evil That Men Do.” I wrote my verse in Suffolk, England last fall while I watched the COP26 Glasgow Climate Change Conference unfold on television in the small country home of my fiancé’s grandparents. I was angered by the ineffectual leadership on display. It bothered me that larger powers were placing an uneven burden on smaller countries with their environmental actions. Getting to work with Hot Chip on a song like this was an absolute dream. You can listen here:

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You can find me updating my playlist, DJing on Twitch or hanging on TikTok, Twitter and Instagram. You can listen to Cadence Weapon music on Spotify, Apple Music and Bandcamp and you can cop Cadence Weapon merchandise here. Get your copy of Bedroom Rapper here.