Everything Music: How Brandon Williams Finished a Song While Burying His Whole World
man beat on pots and pans at 3, got thrown out of class for it, and turned that into a brand-new sound β go listen π₯

It started under the kitchen sink
Before the record label, before the horns and the Fender Rhodes, there was a three-year-old dragging pots and pans out from under the sink. Beating on them. Flipping over grey tin trash cans in the alley. Snapping twigs off the cherry tree to use as sticks. Driving his grandfather James Brad Alexander and his mom Brenda straight up the wall.
Brandon Williams didn't choose the drums. The drums were already in his head, 24/7, and they had to come out somewhere.
They came out at desks in Anne Beers Elementary, where teachers sent him to the principal's office almost daily for beating rhythms in the middle of class. Blame the family, honestly β his aunties Bunny and Anne were the ones dragging him to Ft Dupont and Anacostia Park to see Kool & The Gang, Roy Ayers, Brass Construction, BT Express. The kid never stood a chance.
A village of hands on one drummer
Music was the family business. Brandon's dad, Ralph "Dickie" Williams, ran bands β The Maditdoors, Elvans Rd LTD, Symba, who cracked the Billboard top 100. Go-go legend Lil Benny sat a 10-year-old Brandon down at his first go-go at Club Labaron and helped him find his pocket. (He also got body-slammed by his mom for coming home at 5am. Fair.)
Then came the churches. Washington Revival Center at six. Michael's Temple Pentecostal. The Angels of Peace, where he learned quartet and traditional gospel. School marching bands β snare drummer at Friendly, then Anacostia, chasing perfection on that one drum through Turkey Bowls and parades. At Spirit Of Faith Christian Center, under Mike and Dee Dee Freeman, he got fined $5 a roll for drum fills that didn't belong in the song. Owed a fortune. Also became a real drummer.
All of that shaped one thing: a sound he calls Go-Jaaz. Live horns, strings, organ, Fender Rhodes. A steady pocket drive with a hint of go-go but mostly jazz, laced with the tribal rhythms of the African nation. Music built to make you get up β or sit back and breathe.
The song he almost walked away from at forever
At ten, Brandon told his dad he wanted to be just like him. He wanted to make music, and he wanted his dad to produce one song in particular: "My Mood" by MFSB, the Sound of Philly.
He launched his own label in 2019 and threw a celebration honoring the people who built him β his dad, his mom, his uncle Mike, Earnest Wims, Clarence Minor. Then life started swinging.
In 2021, his dad passed. Four months later, his mom. Mr. Wims β who'd become his second dad β passed in 2024. Clarence Minor, five months after that. Then Brandon was diagnosed with stage 3 cancer.
Everything but the kitchen sink. Nearly everyone he'd honored at that launch was gone. He stopped and started "My Mood" five times. He wanted to walk away from it forever. He wanted to curl up in a corner and be done. In his own words, depression sat in, and creating music no longer felt like a purpose.
What pulled him back wasn't a hit or a viral moment. It was people. His kids and grandkids loving up on him. His sister-in-love Angie Wims and his person, Leslie LittleJohn. His big sister Kecia. His Auntie Bunny interceding. His God-parents Bishop Larry H Jordan Sr and Pastor Delphine Jordan praying. His brother Ralph Jr ministering. His sister Cheryl β who survived a house fire with burns over 85% of her body β praying over him. His 94-year-old cousin, Rev. Phyllis Anne Harris, still sharp, still praying every day.
He went back to worship music. He went to therapy. He finished the song.
"With the spirit of excellence"
Brandon puts it simple: God gave him a gift to honor Him, and every morning he wakes up is another day to get life right. His dad's words still run the show β "Do everything with the spirit of excellence and hard work."
"My Mood" isn't just a cover of a favorite record. It's the thing he swore he'd finish for his dad, dragged out of the darkest stretch of his life.
What's next is more music and more videos. If any of this landed, go meet the man where he lives:
Still here. Still drumming. Everything music.
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