There are three people I’ve been thinking about around the clock, two of whom we’ve lost in the last two weeks, and one who is recovering from an accident that seems imaginary. All I can do is celebrate them and their rare generosity and selflessness. It's been my good fortune to share the world with them.
My old man, who passed on Dec 17, was a quiet lone wolf from Kermit in Winkler County west Texas, about 11 miles down the road from Wink, the town Roy Orbison was from. He told me tales of his teenage years in the early days of Rock N Roll, when he ran illegal carloads of booze and cigarettes across the timeline to and from New Mexico. He carried brass knuckles, switchblades, and dressed like a cat. This was during the Midland oil boom 50’s when wild music was neither white nor black, nor was it country or blues, yet it was all these things. He learned the hard way that the world his parents believed in was not the one he wanted for himself, so he wandered. He seemed to wander most of his life, with a dismissal of regret that I’ve had no choice but to see as a gift. He had a special love for the damaged and homeless, the down on their luck types. He always had time for strangers, because as it’s said, he knew he was a stranger too. He’s the one who took me to see the Butthole Surfers, Sonic Youth, Pussy Galore, Scratch Acid, and Poison 13, in the mid 80’s. He took a special glee in band names that wouldn’t be printable in the paper those days, and once he bought a Jack Officers Tshirt that was an image of a huge cock and balls with Oliver North’s head at the end. He would wear it often in public. His dry wit dusted past most people. A great day to him was to see 3 movies in a row, go to the library, get some books and have a picnic in the park. The only vegetable he ate was ketchup. He taught me more than anyone about anything. His only spiritual belief was that love is all we have and it's all we leave behind. I’m gonna miss him bad.
Jonathan Toubin is a pal of mine who is known now for his idiosyncratic DJ style. Soul dance contests and Freakbeat garage, he plays what he likes, and what moves people. I got to know him as guitar player of Noodle and the Hamicks in the days of the Blue Flamingo, a crazy joint in the early 90’s that would never fly in current day Austin. People were stabbed, kidnapped, and there was no stage, so when big gay dudes would get into fights they would come crashing into the band. The owner Miss Laura, was a giant black transsexual who would pull out a baseball bat when things got wild. She used it, too. She named the club Blue Flamingo because she loved the John Waters flick Pink Flamingoes, but thought that sounded “too tacky”. I’m not gonna be so obvious as to say that the pre-Emos pre-juggernaut SXSW days of Austin were better, but they were certainly easier. Getting around was a breeze and you would never wait in line to a good show. The boundary was blurry between club and party and Toubin was always there. He seemed to appreciate participation more than quality in my efforts and his loyalty and knowledge are what made the network he travels as a DJ these days. He is the only guy I know of who travels the world playing the stuff he does. He’s blazed a world touring circuit like Black Flag, yet all he carries is a box of 45’s. He flew to New Orleans on his own dime to play records at my wedding, and you hear stories of this kind of giving spirit all over the place. You’ll continue to hear these stories, because Jonathan is recovering and doing much better after being brutally hit by a Radio Cab while he slept in his Portland hotel room. His injuries are bad and he’s got a road of rehabilitation ahead of him, but he’s pulling through.
The loss that hurts the most is the one I have the fewest words for, my dear Esme Barrera. She was so close to me and the people I’m closest to, that the tragedy of her passing will take much time to process. Her husky and hilarious way of talking coupled with a massive joyous energy is everything a band or a person would want in a fan , a sister, or a teacher. Yet, the confusion in grief as well as rage in this city can’t even eclipse the spirit of this woman. I have a feeling that her memory will become an enduring emblem of how to treat and care for each other. Love is all we have and it’s all we leave behind.
