I was about ten years old when I got my first iPod. Of the 15 songs I had on repeat, “Remind Me” by Patrice Rushen loops vividly in the carousel of my childhood memories. The melody felt instantly familiar—it had already woven itself into the background of my early listening.

I felt right at home in her delivery and the emotions it stirred. You could feel every word she sang—effortless and honest. Even as a kid, I was drawn to a well-crafted lyric, and the way “Remind Me” was written spoke directly to that instinct. It was the perfect storm: melody, meaning, and emotion, all aligned.

Patrice Rushen was one of those voices that just felt like home. Born and raised in Los Angeles, she made music that was smooth, smart, and full of feeling. Even if you didn’t know her name, you knew her sound—from “Forget Me Nots” to the beats your favorite rappers sampled. She wasn’t just part of LA culture—she helped shape modern music, quietly and brilliantly.

In the early stages of her career, Patrice Rushen was signed to Prestige Records, where she was primarily positioned as a jazz act. It made sense on paper—she was a classically trained pianist with chops that could rival anyone in the game. But the label leaned heavily into her technical skill and refined image, placing her squarely in the jazz category, a space that was seen as respectable but creatively limiting.

Patrice Rushen stood at the intersection of a major shift in the music scene. As the industry moved from the raw funk and soul of the ’70s into the polished, groove-heavy sounds of the ’80s, there was growing demand for artists who could deliver both musical depth and commercial appeal. Labels were chasing a new sound—something slicker, more synth-forward, and radio-friendly.

Disco was dying. By the late 1970s, disco was everywhere—on the radio, in movies, on TV, even in children’s shows. Labels rushed to capitalize, churning out formulaic disco tracks in droves.

Enter Patrice Rushen: a classically trained pianist from South Central LA, who could arrange, conduct, produce, and perform. She had a clean, sophisticated image—one that labels leaned into. But the depth of her artistry? That didn’t always make it into the spotlight. Instead of being positioned as a musical innovator or multi-instrumentalist, she was often cast as a “tasteful” R&B artist—beautiful, talented, but not framed as the powerhouse she truly was.

Her sound wasn’t just admired—it was pursued. Prince, who had a “mad crush” on Rushen, even wrote “I Wanna Be Your Lover” with her in mind. He even offered it to her for her 1979 album Pizzazz—but she ultimately didn’t record it. According to Prince Vault, his manager Alan Leeds revealed that Prince had a “mad crush” on Rushen at the time. She also lent her talents to his debut album For You, arranging strings on the tender track “Baby.”

“Forget Me Nots” wasn’t just a standout hit—it helped shape what the ’80s would sound like. It blended the sophistication of live musicianship with emerging electronic textures, laying the groundwork for what would become staples of R&B, pop, and even early hip-hop production. Patrice Rushen made the groove feel effortless, but every element was carefully crafted—from the tight drum programming to the jazzy chord voicings and unforgettable bassline.

What sets Patrice apart is how she combined these worlds—bringing technical skill and deep musicality into funk and R&B while taking creative control behind the scenes. While artists like Prince, Stevie Wonder, Herbie Hancock, Ray Charles, and Nina Simone also had classical backgrounds and shaped funk, Patrice’s ability to be composer, arranger, bandleader, and producer all at once was truly exceptional. She wasn’t just making music; she was breaking molds.

I’ve watched Patrice Rushen’s reflection from the Changemaker series so many times because of the gems she drops—and the quiet confidence she exudes is truly inspiring. Every time, I catch something new in how she talks about her craft, her journey, and owning her space in a challenging industry.

Something Patrice Rushen said really gave me a sense of peace, and I carry it with me every day:

“When we learn to do something well, and we see it as our life’s work, one of the first ways to enter into it is to be in service of the thing.”

It’s a beautiful reminder that mastery isn’t just about skill or success—it’s about humility, dedication, and honoring the craft itself.

Patrice Rushen didn’t just make hits—she’s lived in service of the music itself. Long after the spotlight of her chart-topping years, she continued shaping the industry from the inside out. As a composer, musical director, educator, and mentor, Rushen has taken on roles that are often invisible but essential.

She became the first woman to serve as music director for the Grammy Awards, the Emmy Awards, and the NAACP Image Awards—an unglamorous but deeply influential position that shaped the sound and feel of some of the most-watched broadcasts in history. She brought precision, care, and a deeply rooted musical intelligence to every cue and transition, always putting the music first.

Today, she serves as the Chair of the Popular Music Program at USC’s Thornton School of Music, mentoring a new generation of artists with the same rigor and soul that defined her own career. In a music culture that often chases trends and quick wins, Rushen stands for intention.

It’s not about the noise or the spotlight—it’s about surrendering to the craft, honoring every note, every lyric, every moment of the process.

As I nearly complete this album, I hold that truth close. This journey isn’t just about songs—it’s about devotion, patience, and a humble offering to the art that calls me.

In the stillness of creation, I find my own quiet confidence, shaped by the legacy of those who’ve walked this path before me—like Patrice, who showed me that mastery is love in action.