An Ode to the Powell's
a.k.a me talking about some of my favourite people in the world and other stuff and you sitting there reading it because why not.
I was trying to be discreet.
Then the timer went off.
“Ah flip sake”.
*beep, beep, beep*
Jason looked up. I’d been made. I was hiding behind the focusrite stand - not that it did a good job of masking my presence. I mean I’m a 5’10 black woman wearing a pink hat (5’11 on hinge).
"I was trying do candids"
I caught Peter's attention.
*beep, beep, beep*
You know, all I had to do was switch the knob to the "off" position. Like...erm...duh? I panicked.
I brought the camera back to my blurry eye knowing that I'd already lost my focus point. Trying to focus without glasses in the first place wasn’t the best idea.
"Oh, you're trying to take a picture?" asked a regular of theirs.
"beep, beep, beep"
"Yeah, I wanted them all candid" I replied, still rushing to regain focus.
"beep, beep, beep"
"Okay, okay. Act natural this time." Peter or Jason said this. I can't really recall, I looked up briefly and they both had that familial grin spread across their faces.
*click!*
"Well... we'll know soon enough." I said.
We spoke, we laughed, we hugged, then I left.
----
I'd been in and around the shop a few times before.
First, as a child. We grew up in Hackney, and when my mum was working at the hospital over the weekends, our dad would take us out and about in his car to run errands. We’d be in and out of clothes shops, shoe shops, supermarkets, Dalston market, DIY shops. You name it, we did it. The day I realized my dad was an uppercase G was during one of our fuel stops before we headed out to be his assistants for the day. We pulled up to the Texaco near our house. My sister and I couldn’t believe what we saw. There were two massive Jamaican men, shades on, tatted up with bulging muscles and I shit you not (or maybe I do, because I was young and restless), rifle guns in hand with bullets strapped across their bodies. Welcome to Hackney.
We begged him not to go out in case they decided to play target practice with the man who promised us McDonalds later on. But not only did he pull up right next to them, he spoke directly to them, almost demanding them to move so he could pump his fuel in order to collect the meat his wife asked him to purchase from the market. Priorities, the man knew his. They moved. Apologised even. Then we headed out with my sister and I even more terrified and confused than before.
Upandan™ we went and when he finally got annoyed by the sighs and saw the fatigued look on our poor faces, he’d grant us respite from our bag-holding duties, leaving us in the back of his Renault Megane Classic. We'd beg the man to leave the car on so we could play one of his CDs. Silence was the breeding ground for arguments. We’d have a choice of Lucky Dube, Kassav, Peter Tosh or UB40. He’d park around the way and pop into Hy-Tek for some final bits and bobs. I only saw it from the car, but the place was always buzzing back then, especially on the weekends.
The time I actually went inside was during college. I needed an xlr lead for a project I was working on and did a google search on the closest audio shops in my area. I had to search for it because since moving to Houghton Regis when I was ten and only having returned to Hackney at sixteen, every turning, street name, and building had gently slipped from memory. When confronted with these places again, it felt less like a reunion and more like your mum asking you to pick up a knife and start chopping after just having stepped through the door because there’s a hall party later tonight and the meat pies won’t fold themselves.
I mapped my route. The 242 would drop me off across the road from the shop.
“A hop and a skip and I’m there”, I thought. I’m becoming Mariama.
I barely stepped off the bus before I heard music blaring from the shop. It was a three story building, but compact. The only way I can describe the interior is like the inside of Mary Poppins’ bag, but if she was black and liked dub music.
Everything was where it needed to be. And so was I. I only needed the cable, but for some reason, I was now compelled to buy a 15” sub for my non-existent vehicle. After wandering around oohing and aahing at every piece of tech about, I finally stepped up to the till and bought my cable. The team were lively and jovial and just seemed happy to be around each other and stuff they’d probably ooh and ahh at too.
I was served by the man who would be my boss a few years later and my very good friend for life. I walked out with my A4 size receipt of goods and went home to complete my project.
In late 2017, I started working at Hy-Tek alongside Uni. My first day at the job wasn’t the most ordinary (ask me about it). If you could fit Hackney into a jar you’d have to label it Hy-Tek Electronics. Music heads, hipsters, a celeb or two, rastas, church folk on a budget, aunties and their snotty kids with chicken wing oil hands, just about everyone you’d meet on the streets of Hackney would find their way into Hy-Tek.
My first few weeks were tough, but I eventually got the hang of it and could pull out almost any adapter when a customer would ask for that thing that connects to the thing, but not that thing the other thing. I learned more about audio during my time here than I ever did at school.
Time spent with the Powell’s was like a dream. Jason Powell, a man with a straight face but ruthless jokes. Spending time with him was like hanging out with the older brother I always wanted. I remember one afternoon while I was listening to the radio and flicking through a product catalogue, there was a crowd gathering outside the shop due to some domestic altercation stirring outside our window. I watched it play out to make sure it was and when the man grabbed the woman by the collar and pushed her against the shop window, I two-stepped behind the till to grab Jason from the office. He was out and handling the situation in a second. I gained a lot of respect for him that day.
Wednesday’s were my favourite. That was me and Peter’s day. They were typically slower up until about 2pm, so we’d spend time showing each other our favourite songs on YouTube while I labelled cables, talking about life and such between serving and sometimes befriending customers, and then after hours we’d pick up food from Pepper’s and Spice and then come back to have our jam sessions. Anytime we’d get new guitar tech in, we’d be sure to try it out. You know, for product knowledge. Then when it got late, we headed to the open mic event up the high street.
Wednesdays were my favourite.
A couple of months later I spoke to Peter about something that prompted words from him that sounded as though God was speaking. God likes to speak to me though people, especially during tough times.
“I wish you knew how strong you are”. Something along the lines of that.
I looked up from whatever lament I snapped out of and saw him standing on the other side of the counter looking at me with such pride.
It’s taken some time for that to sink in, but today, as I write this, it’s diving deeper and deeper beneath the surface. Sometimes we need that reminder that we are stronger than we think we are. That we can handle anything life throws at us, and trust me, life loves to throw shit. But we can handle it all. We wouldn’t be here if we couldn’t.
I cried like a big baby when I left later that year.
The Powell’s are family and the time spent there helped mould me into the woman I am today and if I ever drag you to Hackney on a Monday through to Saturday, best believe I’m taking you to my second home. I’ll carry the fond memories of working at Hy-Tek with me forever.
Upandan™ coined by the one and only Chioma Adebayo.
The song below played while I was typing this. I thought I’d share it with you all.
Thanks for reading. Peace and love y’all xx