Can't sleep,
Can't listen to music,
Can't eat.
I keep waiting for Austin to text me
and tell me it's not true, but as it slowly seeps into my mind (and
my dreams for the few moments I manage to nod off), there's an
overwhelmingly dark cloud approaching that doesn't look like it's
going to go away. I can picture him in front of me, the way he moves,
the way he talks, and the energy that IS him.
This is the person that gave me the
strength to keep writing when I'd reached a tipping point in my first
year living in NY; I had decided to stop. I vividly remember taking
the overnight bus from Montreal to NY from Sunday to Monday, waiting
out the 4:30am pit stop at the Albany terminus and thinking: “I
can't continue on being a musician”. So I got in to the residence
and looked up how to opt out of school a few weeks into the session.
That Tuesday afternoon was my ensemble rehearsal, where I'd been
placed with Austin and some other great and kind musicians, led by
Andrew Cyrille. Andrew had asked us to bring in our compositions. I
had been writing one specifically for the ensemble, as a tribute to
my brother's ex-girlfriend who had passed away from a rare blood
condition. I brought it in, and upon reading the sheet music Austin
said “This is so dope, man! How'd you come up with these
harmonies?”. We went to get some food together and talked about who
we listened to, realizing we both loved Brahms tremendously. This
began one of the most inspiring, life-changing friendships of my
life. I decided I had a right to think I could be a musician, if only
because HE thought so.
Austin and I would meet up on
weeknights and grab a 6-pack of Pacifico (he would drink 4, I would
drink 2), and listen to music. He had already recorded his 3rd
album, which I had to beg him to show me; he had a hard time
listening to his own playing, he explained. He managed to get a
weekly gig on Wednesdays(?) at a Peruvian restaurant in the East
Village which we played duo, playing free, sometimes with ideas he
would bring in. The piano was out of tune, but Austin would remember
which notes were truly unplayable and simply avoid them. We would go
home and listen to more music until late. The hang was Austin, me,
Dominic Mekky, and Jay Rudolph. Others who met Austin would think
him very intense, I would always respond that geniuses are intense by
nature, there was no way around it. I started to notice that those
who claimed to know him, or had stories about him were wildly
exaggerated and invented; here was the kindest, most engaging person
I'd ever met. There was no banter or small talk with Austin, it was
everything, oneness, truth, love, the widest scope of the human and
supernatural experience, always and everywhere we went.
He'd made up his mind to move back to
LA. New York wasn't the place for him, though towards the end of the
school year he was beginning to admit that he was going to miss it.
We would talk about his first semester at The New School, how his
impression of the city and the music was false and fake, all things I
attributed to the people he'd first met. Musicians would cling to
him, as if his being would somehow make them better. In a way, it
usually did, but it was a one-way relationship. They were seeking
something other than Austin as a whole.
Before the year ended, I remember
taking him to meet some of my friends at Coffee House (Coffee Shop?)
on Avenue A and 14th Street. Austin was seated across
from Gemma Soldati. Naturally, his first choice of conversation was
the cosmos, where Gemma negated everything he said for the sake of
negation (something he didn't let slide). This sparked an
infatuation from both Austin and Gemma, though it took many months to
come to fruition. There was a specific hang on my girlfriend's
rooftop where when we left, I remember Austin looking at me and
saying “What's UP with that girl, man? Why didn't I meet her
earlier. What a trip!” I replied, “I know, man, this is what
you'll be missing when you leave”. Walking up 1st
Avenue, he then yelled “WHY DOES HE DO IT????? BECAUSE HE
HAAASSSSSSS TOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
In April and May, we'd seen each other
essentially every day, or at least been in contact. One exception
being that he was playing with FlyLo or something, and texted me
saying he'd just met Thom Yorke, mentioning how nice he was. It was
Austin-esque to say hello wherever he was or whoever he was with.
When it came time to leave for the summer, he vowed to come back and
hang/play. It was in September or October of 2010 that he came to
stay with my brother and I. I had convinced him that Gemma wanted to
see him (she very much did). I'd invited them both to a friend's
show. It wasn't more than 2 minutes before they left together. This sparked
Gemma's moving to LA. We kept in touch frequently as he began to get
very high-profile gigs (he'd already begun playing with The Cinematic
Orchestra in the Winter of 2009 I think).
After leaving the New School, I called
Austin and asked him to reserve 12 days in December. I wanted to plan
a big band tour, with him as the feature. He accepted, turning down
much better paying gigs. I then spent 3 months writing music
specifically for him, which turned into “Hope”. I remember when
he arrived at my apartment, and we looked at the piano music
together. I've never felt anyone genuinely tell me they liked my
music than in that moment. He completely understood what I had
written for him, he knew how to phrase everything perfectly, knew how
to emote all of the subtleties. I've yet to come across musicianship
like this since. The next day he spent perfecting everything, making
notes in the score. Before heading off to the first rehearsal with
the band, he said “Okay, I know it now.” The following 12 days
have meant more to me than any other time in my life. Having
“Peraltitas” on board, the whole band had power and energy unlike
ever before, every night was different. The most notable moment came
when we were in studio to record the piece. It was around 1pm when we
began tracking the rhythm section. We played two takes of the major
solo section, and with the second one, everyone in the room knew that
was the one.
Later as I was mixing the record and sent him a draft,
he responded with this:
I still think that's an incredibly
special solo, but more importantly, the piano performance as a whole is truly deep. I don't know if he meant what he said, but it was (and still is) nice to hear. He played the moment as beautifully as it could ever
have been played. I only managed to capture the second half on video,
but the audio will always be there. I had expected to write more
music for him, as I'm sure many others also intended. It's nearly
exactly a year since he showed up on my doorstep in Brooklyn.
November 29th. The last time I saw him was on December
11th 2011, I walked him down the stairs of my girlfriend's place to hail him a cab on
1st Avenue and 11th Street. I gave him a big
hug and told him how much the tour had meant to me, and that I planned on
doing it again. I'll never forget what he said; “Anytime, man.
Anytime you write something, I'm down to come play for you,
wherever.” How I wish I could have him come play my music just one
more time.
I can't say this enough. The most
joyous and proud moment of my life was having Austin play music I'd
written for him, backed by 19 of my closest musical friends. I have
all of the recordings from that tour, I don't know if I'll be able to
listen to them anytime soon, but I know that when I'm ready, his
spirit will fill my head, the room, the planet. It's too strong to be
forgotten.
So as I sit in my room crying, waiting
for another thought to cross my mind (everything else has been
rendered trivial), I want to thank him for having saved my musical being. I'll miss him incredibly as a musician, but most as my friend.
There are so many others like me. I could write so much more, but
maybe that's for another time.
I miss having him write nonsensical
prose into his phone
I miss him leaving incoherent messages
to friends at random times
I miss JONDY
I miss having him embarrass me while
yelling in the street
I miss having him to drink Pacifico and
talking about music
I miss Austin.
-FR
