FILM PRODUCER
I remember him on stage with Weird Summer, The Big Maybe, and for some reason I’m thinking of Pop the Balloon, but that might not be right. In person, we were never anything less than friendly, standing together on the left side of Mabel’s where the bar meets the wall, leaning back with arms crossed. Perhaps we were both too self-aware to delve into more social interactions? Too shy?
What I remember most whether I saw him at the record store in the mall, at Mabels/Record Swap/on the street was that he always seemed like he knew something I didn’t, something specific. I’m sure he knew an infinite number of things I did not, but in these cases it was always some bit of beatific knowledge, happy or sad, and he was focused on it. The outcome of my interactions with him was the outcome that comes of two introverts meeting: there’s a lot to say, but I’ll say it next time. Maybe.
When One Track Mind came out, I was just over-the-moon thrilled with it. It’s not that “Oh, he should’ve been a superstar.” Should is not an operative word in this case. Should or shouldn’t is irrelevant. He wasn’t a superstar in the rock and roll market. Whatever. That record fits squarely among the best work put out by Donovan, Elliot Smith, and Game Theory-era Scott Miller. He was wise and it flowed like slightly bitter honey.