Some real.
Hello, all. Just taking a moment out from our interstellar tour saga to remember an old friend and one-time band-mate who died unexpectedly this past week. I will no doubt return to the utter nonsense that is this blog's usual narrative, but right now I can't quite bring myself to do it. Just need some time for reflection, I guess.
Tim Walsh played guitar with a band my brother and I started back in the seventies - a precursor to Big Green in many ways. We had about seventeen names for the group, none of which stuck. (It was a bit like Jethro Tull's early days when they played the same clubs over and over under different names - kind of a good strategy, that.) Tim was my sister's boyfriend at the time; a slightly older (at that point in life, three years made a big difference) kid from Florida who had hair down to his ass, a blackbelt in Tai Kwan Do, and a 1959 black beauty Les Paul Custom.
I was young enough to look up to him in those first days. Later on, we were friends, housemates, brothers in the struggle to make music - and life - work on some level, mostly failing at that but often enjoying the journey. And the journeys were many, to be sure. Driving to New York for the hell of it in his little Honda coupe, rolling out to gigs around Albany in my broken down van, piling in and riding home for the holidays. There were countless late nights and later morning, imbibing beyond the boundaries of sensibility, laughing ourselves sick at bad movies and television. And that laugh - I can hear it right now. Full-throated, all-consuming, as if whatever minor absurdity had inspired it brought home to him the full, glorious absurdity of the universe.
Tim had very, very good fingers, and a singular approach to guitar playing the like of which I have never heard. Music brought him to another, better place, I think, and I hope it will continue to do so long after his departure from this life. The last time I saw Tim was back in 1992 - he moved to North Carolina, built a life around his family, and we fell out of touch for quite a long time - until a couple of years ago, actually, when we reconnected via Facebook and other means. We had grown apart, sure, but still shared something - if nothing else, the ability to laugh at the same stuff, but I think quite a bit more than that as well.
Not much else I can say except that he was a good person, one of the best I've known. So here's to my friend and brother Tim - safe journey.
Tim Walsh played guitar with a band my brother and I started back in the seventies - a precursor to Big Green in many ways. We had about seventeen names for the group, none of which stuck. (It was a bit like Jethro Tull's early days when they played the same clubs over and over under different names - kind of a good strategy, that.) Tim was my sister's boyfriend at the time; a slightly older (at that point in life, three years made a big difference) kid from Florida who had hair down to his ass, a blackbelt in Tai Kwan Do, and a 1959 black beauty Les Paul Custom.
I was young enough to look up to him in those first days. Later on, we were friends, housemates, brothers in the struggle to make music - and life - work on some level, mostly failing at that but often enjoying the journey. And the journeys were many, to be sure. Driving to New York for the hell of it in his little Honda coupe, rolling out to gigs around Albany in my broken down van, piling in and riding home for the holidays. There were countless late nights and later morning, imbibing beyond the boundaries of sensibility, laughing ourselves sick at bad movies and television. And that laugh - I can hear it right now. Full-throated, all-consuming, as if whatever minor absurdity had inspired it brought home to him the full, glorious absurdity of the universe.
Tim had very, very good fingers, and a singular approach to guitar playing the like of which I have never heard. Music brought him to another, better place, I think, and I hope it will continue to do so long after his departure from this life. The last time I saw Tim was back in 1992 - he moved to North Carolina, built a life around his family, and we fell out of touch for quite a long time - until a couple of years ago, actually, when we reconnected via Facebook and other means. We had grown apart, sure, but still shared something - if nothing else, the ability to laugh at the same stuff, but I think quite a bit more than that as well.
Not much else I can say except that he was a good person, one of the best I've known. So here's to my friend and brother Tim - safe journey.
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