Richmond, California. 4th grade. The back of a bus. And one slow jam that locked itself into my heart permanently.
Some moments don’t just live in your memory—they take out a long-term lease, hang curtains, and refuse to leave. For me, hearing Jodeci’s “Forever My Lady” for the first time was exactly that. It wasn’t just a song. It was a full-body, slow-jam, life-altering experience delivered straight to my nine-year-old ears on an ordinary school morning in Richmond, California.
Let me paint the scene: I was in the fourth grade at Nystrom Elementary, and like most kids in Richmond, we didn’t ride the classic yellow school bus you’d see in sitcoms. We took the public bus. AC Transit, to be specific. That meant our rides to school came with a lot of character, a few side-eye-worthy moments from grown folks riding along, and whatever music happened to be playing in the car or on the bus radio at the time. On this particular morning, my mom was driving us to school, trailing right behind the public bus packed with kids I knew. I remember staring out the car window, watching my friends laughing and goofing off through the back window of the bus.
And then… it happened. The radio blessed my life and gave me my first listen to “Forever My Lady.” From the opening notes, something shifted. Even at nine years old, I could tell this wasn’t just another song. This was an event. The harmonies were thick like molasses. The production felt bigger than the little car we were sitting in. And the vocals? They punched me right in the heart with more emotion than I even had life experience for.
That was 1991, the year Jodeci dropped their debut album “Forever My Lady.” Of course, I didn’t know all the music industry facts back then—like the fact that DeVante Swing was behind the production magic or that this group was about to drag R&B into a brand new era of black boots, leather vests, and “we’re not here for your matching cardigan agenda.” All I knew in that moment was that something inside me had changed. This was the kind of music that made you sit still and feel everything.
The song was written and produced by Jodeci’s own DeVante Swing and singer/producer Al B. Sure!. It was dedicated to Al B. Sure!’s then-girlfriend Kim Porter and their newborn son Quincy. So while I was in the backseat having my little pre-teen emotional awakening, this was really a love letter from a new dad to his family. No wonder it hit like it did.
Jodeci wasn’t safe. They weren’t soft. They weren’t there to be background noise at your family cookout. They were bold, unpolished, and gave us raw emotion on a silver platter. They didn’t just sing about love—they sang like love was the only thing standing between them and total emotional collapse. And for a tomboy like me, who was already drawn to things that felt authentic, real, and a little rough around the edges… Jodeci felt like home.
My love for them didn’t stop with that first song. By the time they dropped “Diary of a Mad Band” in 1993, I was fully converted. Then came “The Show, The After Party, The Hotel” in 1995, which only solidified what I already knew: Jodeci wasn’t just a group—they were a lifestyle choice. Every album became another chapter in my life soundtrack. K-Ci’s raspy, church-trained howls, JoJo’s silky notes, Mr. Dalvin’s swag, and DeVante’s production genius… they were everything.
To this day, if “Forever My Lady” comes on, I’m immediately transported back to that morning… sitting in the car behind that public bus… looking at my friends… and feeling like the entire Bay Area breeze was carrying that song straight to me.
Jodeci wasn’t just background music for my childhood—they were the pulse. The mood. The reason I fell in love with R&B in the first place.If you want to experience even a piece of what I felt that day—or just relive your own slow jam moment—go hit my 90s Kings playlist on RanjiRoo Radio. Trust me… they’re right where they should be.