*Fans are mourning the death of Lou Wilson of Mandrill, the afro-funk band who passed away from cardiac arrest. He was 71.
Details of a planned memorial celebration will be announced shortly. Below is a message to the public from Lou’s brothers and fellow band members:
The centerpiece of our music and our lives, eldest brother LOUIS WILSON, affectionately known as “Sweet Lou,” made his transition on Monday morning, January 7, 2013 in Southern California.
On behalf of the Wilson Family and Mandrill, we ask that you please light a candle, hum a song, play a drum or say a prayer in remembrance of him.
Lou would like that. . .
We will keep you posted on plans for a musical tribute in the near future and other information.
Best regards,
Ric, Carlos and Wolf
www.mandrillmusic.com




















rest in peace my brother, i cant tell u how many times i played “fencewalk” on my turntable. i had never heard anything like it. the horns were so powerful u could taste them and the bass pulsated so deeply u could fill it in your sternum, not to mention the foot power that the drummer was putting down. one of the best funk bands to ever play, with a lovely backing of latin groove.
It is with my deepest, heart felt sympathy that I send my condolences to the entire Wilson family and Mandrill. If you will allow me, I’d like to share a poem with you. Its not my own. But I offer it to you with the hope that it will add some peace to your souls.
THE BROKEN CHAIN
We little knew that morning that God was going to call your name.
In life we loved you dearly, in death we do the same.
It broke our hearts to lose you, you did not go alone,
For part of us went with you, the day God called you home.
You left us peaceful memories, your love is still our guide,
And though we cannot see you, you are always at our side.
Our family chain is broken, and nothing seems the same,
But as God calls us one by one, the chain will link again.
=========================================
Lou:
You had such a bright, happy and kind spirit. And though some years have passed, I still smile when I think of how funny you could be! Thanks for the memories. For showing me how to laugh. I look at the pictures you shared – of you at three years old, in the clown suit and those of you as the man you were destined to become. A knot forms in my chest – liquid fills my eyes.
So long, Lou. I hope to see you again someday.
“You heard me? Word me.”
Karen