After the Accident, Kwudi's Second Act: Perseverance

We can either go through things, or grow through things. That’s pretty much it. That’s life.

Unforeseen circumstances, often presented as obstacles, can serve a great purpose. They have the potential to make us better people, if approached properly. And after talking to Kwudi, I’m wondering if maybe, just maybe, that’s the point of life. To grow through the absolute worst thing one can imagine, and to be better because of it.

“I remember everything up to getting onto my bike,” Kwudi tells me, recounting the day that changed his life. He adds details for context: that morning his fiancée had gone to her office, and he’d worked on some music in his home studio, including his rendition of “Fast Car,” Tracy Chapman’s 1988 hit song. “It’s crazy to look at the timestamp on my computer,” he says, reflecting on how fast life can change.

Kwudi, who lives in Los Angeles, was raised in West Oakland. He’d been playing the drums since he fell in love with the djembe at the age of two, and went on to work with the likes of Logic, Watsky and Kyle. Off the strength of his music, he’s rocked stages at both Madison Square Garden and Red Rocks, and traveled to five different continents. And he used to do a regular gig in our shared hometown back in the day, as part of the house band for the Monday Soul event series at the New Parish in Oakland.

Early in his career, Kwudi realized he needed to be stronger to lift his drumming gear, so he became a gym rat. While becoming musclebound and tatted up, he started finding a more appreciation for the great outdoors — particularly through fishing and motorcycling.

After constantly traveling and experiencing success through other people’s projects, Kwudi pivoted to focus on his own art. That allowed him to spend more time at home with his then-girlfriend, and now fiancée, Krystal Carpenter.

Then, in the early summer of 2022, Kwudi closed his laptop in the studio of the couple’s shared home and jumped on his bike to run an errand. He took a short but scenic cruise through Los Angeles to his sister’s house, and on the return trip, he came to Stocker and Santa Rosalia streets. As Kwudi entered the intersection going straight, so did a woman in oncoming traffic, attempting to make a left turn. Her 2016 Nissan Altima hit Kwudi. According to the police report, he flew over the car, landing about 100 feet away.

Kwudi remembers none of this.

“The accident was on June 2nd. I remember waking up on June 5th or 6th,” says Kwudi. He awoke to Krystal beside him. A GoFundMe account, started by his friends, had accumulated $50,000 in donations. He’d go on to spend 37 days in the hospital, and another month doing inpatient rehab.

Kwudi emerged from the accident hazy and unable to move, but as far he could see, he only had some minor bruises and scrapes on his legs. The physicians told him that he had a serious concussion and a spinal cord injury that was initially listed as “complete” before being changed to “incomplete.”

Kwudi says that “complete” spinal cord injury means he’d never feel anything below the neck again, and an “incomplete” injury means there’s a chance he could one day regain the ability to walk.

“A spinal cord injury is really complex,” Kwudi tells me during a video chat. He lays it out like this: “If you break your arm, you’re in cast for three to four weeks, and then you heal, boom. … A spinal cord injury is as opposite of that as it could possibly be.”

I squirmed in my seat as he told me the details of how the doctors performed surgery on his C2 vertebrae, shaving down the bone that was impinging on the nerves, leaving a sizable vertical scar on the back of his neck in a spot that he can’t see.

Being seriously hurt while not being able see the scar led to a state of denial. “I was like, ‘I’ll be cool,’” Kwudi says with unfettered confidence. He wasn’t in a ton of pain, so he figured his inability to move or feel his feet was simply due to the pain medication he was taking. “But coming home and needing help to do everything,” Kwudi says, “that was the ‘ton of bricks’ moment.”

His family assisted in redecorating and remodeling portions of his home, making a work desk at a reasonable height for a guy his size. From there, he began the real labor. He had to re-learn how to dress himself. He started spending his days watching classic movies, finding comfort in stories he knew well. At 34 years old, he suddenly felt unattractive because of his accident, and found himself not wanting to be seen. He had to learn how to see himself again, and how to show himself to the world.

On top of not wanting to be social, he could no longer do the things he loved doing on his own time — no fishing, bodybuilding or bike riding. He almost lost music as well. “The doctors were like, ‘You could’ve lost your sense of rhythm,’” Kwudi tells me, his big eyes growing even larger as he expressed what was at stake. “‘You could’ve woken up and not been able to feel one-two-three-four in the same way. You could’ve woken up and been deaf.’”

Although Kwudi can’t play the drums right now, he has mobility of his arms and use of his voice — plus the passion to make music. He came up with a different style of producing that allows him to do so from his wheelchair. He’s altered his approach to the craft, but his love of the art is the same. “It feels like that’s why I’m here,” he says about music. “That hasn’t changed.”

Around the end of the summer of 2022, he finally reopened his laptop and saw the timestamp of his last song before the accident, “Fast Car,” and started working on it again. In late 2023, he debuted the song with a music video depicting him in his wheelchair with a plain white studio backdrop, posted in front of car that had clearly been in an accident — an image directly reflective of what he’s gone through; or grown through.

“Fast Car” is the leadoff track to Kwudi’s new four-song EP, It’s Just a Scratch. The majority of the music on the project has a future-funk flavor, with live bass lines and energetic drums that are just short of “fist pumping” tempo. Overall it’s a surprisingly fun listen, complete with a verse from actor and lyricist Benjamin Earl Turner, and the standout track, “Pretty Lil’ Lie.” The tone of the EP isn’t sad, or directly reflective of his accident, despite it being made during the aftermath of a life-changing experience.

That’s intentional. Kwudi doesn’t want to harp on his circumstances. He understands that what he’s encountered over the past two years is an essential part of human life.

When people tell him “I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” Kwudi says that maybe, on a physical level, they can’t. “But mentally, I find that all I’m going through is something unexpected and really, really different. And depending on how our lives are set up, that could be anything. That could be like, the divorce, or the depression or food insecurity.”

Kwudi says that through dealing with unforeseen circumstances that have forced him to live differently, he’s found a deeper connection with his family. He’s gained a redefined love of music. And he’s found a layer of human empathy he’s never experienced.

People go through “the worst thing in their life” all the time. His experience may have unique details in the particulars of how it happened, but he says it’s no different than someone living through war, marrying the wrong person, or losing a parent before making peace.

Kwudi believes that most humans go through “the thing” before they get out of here; we’re all plagued with that one problem, the thing that we have to grow through. And in knowing that, Kwudi has a bit of hope.

“I feel like if this is going to be the biggest problem I’m going to have in my life, it’s not that bad,” he says. “That means I only have better things coming.”