New Orleans is a good city to cry in, I guess. It’s messed up and overflowing, like I am right now. I don’t like to cry in front of people – or at all – but walking my dog at sunset starts me thinking. Or feeling. Or whatever it is that makes tears flow. And I don’t really see anybody but Hubert, the neighbor with thirteen kids who always waves and tells me that he loves me and god blesses me. Nice things to say to a crying person.
I was amazed that there is still a moon, that snow falls, that birds are still pretty without Vic. ‘Cause they are. Sort of extra pretty, even. But I was right to be amazed. I know that the guy I see through a second story window, pouring cereal for dinner under fluorescent lights, thinks that’s what he’s doing, but I know better. This world is pretend.
People at the funeral told me I’d start talking to him and I have, but really, I never stopped talking to him. I can’t call him anymore, though, so my lips just start moving. Not to give him shit, which is what people said my lips would do. Just to clarify. To replay and articulate, to fix every misunderstanding and explain every confusing thing I ever did or said. I wish I’d spelled everything out on my goddamn forehead when I had the chance, ’cause clarity is everything. But then, so is music and we had plenty of that.
And we still do. Music is still bewitching, even in this pretend world without a Vic in it. And the moon in Athens was blue as it raced across the sky (can Vic move the moon now?), the snow in New England was breathtaking, miraculous, and there are perfect birds everywhere. Everything sparkles.
–
Over the past few months, there have been several wonderful events held in tribute to my late friend Vic Chesnutt. I haven’t been able to bring myself to attend any of them.
I was lucky enough to play a lot of shows with Vic over the years, though, and here are two songs from one of my favorites. That night we sat there, side by side trading songs for a couple of hours that felt like a couple of minutes. With no preparation, Vic decided to play piano. Just because there was one on-stage. What the hell? So, so beautiful.
Mine: Hungry
[audio:http://kristinhersh.com/wp-content/uploads/Hungry.mp3]
Vic’s: I’m Through (which he was calling “Pepe Lopez” at that time)
[audio:http://kristinhersh.com/wp-content/uploads/I'm Through.mp3]
This was the last time I saw Vic - photo: Chris Owyoung
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Beautifully well said, I hope/don’t hope we all get to share that same kind of insight about someone we love…..
what a gorgeous picture. your friendship is palpable there as your pain is palpable now. and your post makes me hope there’s something beyond this life. wishing you speedy healing, and hoping that all the other blessings in your life can expand to help you fill the enormous vic-shaped hole.
What a beautiful song “I’m Through” is. I was mesmerized. I was lucky enough to see one of these show, and really, that is how I was introduced to the world of Vic – - through you Kristin. And what a great, honest, wonderful world it was too. Thanks for sharing this, and I am very sorry for Vic’s leaving too.
This reminds me of Howe’s ability to sit down with any instrument and transport people to any given moon. Only, Vic’s emotions were so amplified. Kristin, thanks for posting “Hungry” — I think it’s one of the great un-produced Throwing Muses songs, and it pops into my head any time I’m drinking fine tequila. Please give it another chance, someday.
Any loss is sad and tragic for those concerned. I recently lost an old friend (who admittedly I hadn’t seen for a few years). He died in his sleep aged just 42. I remember feeling really quite upset for a little while, but consoled myself with the fact that I have a wonderful wife and two beautiful daughters who are my life. While I have them, I am everything.
Heartbreaking, beautiful. For nine minutes, I closed my eyes and thought of my friend who died of the thing he couldn’t find a way to live without, and of how I’ll never get over the feeling that I let him down, let him die from a thousand miles away. This music is salve for a permanent, bleeding wound. I don’t know what I’d do without your songs.
Those who counted really stay alive through and within us after they disappear. After feeling dizzy, after a feeling of unreality, the world strangely shifting around, you realise you can still keep moving forward. I hope Vic will remain with and in you, beyond, in your soul and in your songs, Thank you for the tenderness on the picture and in the music.
Yeah, you right! Nyawlins is the kind of place where spirits swirl in the eddies of the river, waft on breezes alternately fragrant with sweet olive and decay. She lets you know the world and all those crazy people are real, not an invention of your imagination, because no one would or could conceive of things so beautiful, so ugly, so sharp, so blunt, so soft, so jarring, so comfortable, unexpected, and most of all, funny. Not that death is ever funny, but revelling in great memories, speculation of what might have been, and our own, little inconsequential sadness quickly becomes less sad and more a source of comfort, joy and even laughter that this crazy world waltzes (or down here, more like two-steps) on. One of my first Nyawlins experiences was missing my chance to see Prof. Longhair, but getting to “second line” in his massive “jazz” funeral. That changed a lot for me–I try not to miss opportunities anymore and remember to celebrate the moment, the people who’re around now (who you might have otherwise avoided) and the spirits that swirl among us. I didn’t know anything of Vic Chesnutt before the recent posts on this blog–another genius I missed. I guess they’re everywhere, but now I know and thank God for him and the light he gave and gives through his music.
These are simply amazing. Thank you. I’d love to hear more recordings from the shows you did together. (maybe a bonus for us strangels, please?) I was never able to make it to any of those shows, so these recordings are real treasures. Thank you.
wish i’d been at that show. sounds beautiful
I did get to see (and hear) Vic Chesnutt–around October 2009 I think it was, and I’m sure glad I finally got out of the house for the show. What took me so long? I’d been a fan since Little.
Kristin solo I’ve not managed yet. There was a Throwing Muses show though 1991? lancaster pa, the chameleon club.
any, this is beautiful