It’s short. It’s indirect. But that doesn’t matter because we’re all connected. Here’s my Shock G story: I organize community beatmaking and DJ session for young and not-so-young people. Two years ago, a mother — new to Pontiac — brought her 7-year old son to a session at the public library. Bohemian vibe. West Coast vibe. All the way through. Little man hit some pads, twisted some knobs, but planted his feet behind the turntables. There’s always one or two who do – can’t see themselves doing anything else. I can relate. But he didn’t grip the fader. He gripped the needle, delicately dropping it in and out of the groove to control the sound between two fingers. “Hey, should we call your uncle?” mom says. “He’d love to know what you’re doing right now.” Little man isn’t sure, more into the sounds cutting in and out when the needle contacts the black vinyl. On the other side of the decks, I’m wondering just who “uncle” is. She pulls out the phone, presses on the bright screen. Somebody answers, a laid back Oakland drawl, maybe a bit nasal — I can hear on the other end. She gives little man the phone, “Here’s Uncle Shock. Tell him what you’re doing.”