I probably spent over a year of my life listening on Bruce’s couch. We spent most of our time together at his apartment; Bruce had a massive collection of music and our conversations were usually anchored in sounds. In those days, I didn’t live so far away, maybe eight blocks up the hill of the college town we lived in. I would head over to his place for a listening session with whatever oddities I had pulled together to share: indie rock, alternative country, world music, folk rock, post punk, and on and on. My tastes were eclectic and I was excited by the seemingly endless depths of the music in the world. Bruce almost always had some connection or story to tell about the music. His tastes were equally eclectic and rooted in a deep love of jazz and he was a fascinating musical guide. We’d throw music on back and forth until we found something that didn’t inspire an exchange, until the music caught us in its thrall and we just fell into it together. Sometimes there were other people there, but most of the time it was the two of us.
Life overtook us and times shifted. I missed him and our listening sessions something terrible, but it was always good between us. Somewhere in those old conversations, he had inspired me to follow his occupational path and my life for many years was consumed by academia and personal transformation from a struggling blue collar bohemian poet and musician to a middle aged man with responsibilities and a job that was as much a passion as it is a way to pay the bills. Bruce understood all of that and provided sage advice along the way. I got married and we asked Bruce to officiate. Our visits became treasured rarities. Eventually my wife and I moved and we started our little family. The visits became phone calls.
But nothing was lost. We still talked about music whenever we connected, sharing what we were listening to. Bruce would tell me about the shows he had been to see. We’d talk about the work. We knew each other so well that he could ground me and call me to reality in subtle ways. Our long conversation never really ended. I’m sure you have people you carry with you that, that guide you through your days. Bruce’s voice has been in my head for twenty years, commenting as I go, encouraging and centering me as needed. It has always been welcome.
He died this summer. I thought I’d have twenty more years with him, maybe more. It is still a shock. I’ve had a lot of loss in the last years and this one is tearing me up something fierce. I think it is the surprise coupled with the love and gratitude I have for him and all the other loss…. it has been months and I still am not right with it. I am blessed with a number of extremely lovely friends that have come and gone through my life, but I’ve never had any friend who meant more to me than Bruce, aside from my immediate family.
I’m not going to let the conversation end as there doesn’t seem to be a need for that. His voice is just as strong as ever in my heart and mind. I figure that, when I’m wanting to share and engage in musical associations, I can do that right here. I’m not thinking of this part of my website as a memorial, but rather a place where the sharing can continue. Maybe it will end up with me involving other people in the ongoing dialogue, but maybe it won’t. Maybe it will just be a place that I answer Bruce’s perpetual question about what I’m listening to and essentially journal about whatever I’d like to share with him. Furthermore, I’m not going to place any burden of expectation on this project; I might post every week or it might be months between, we’ll have to see.
What I do know, is that the way to start this off is abundantly clear to me. Bruce used to host a radio program, long before I was lucky enough to be learning from him, and he started every show with the same song, so I’ll share that here:
When Bruce first played this for me, I don’t think it really sunk in how beautiful the message is. I was reminded of it by his obituary and I remember him sitting down across from me in his chair and playing this for me on a sunny afternoon. I honestly didn’t take those years I got to spend with Bruce for granted, but at the same time the memories and the appreciation of all he gave to me just keep deepening. It is a process I welcome.
Bruce has not been the only person that I have lost; in the last year alone I have said goodbye to half a dozen people and I think this might be part of getting older. I have a tendency to gravitate towards having older friends and this seems to be part of that experience. Inexplicably, everyone seems to be aging, whether I am paying attention or not. I’ve been trying to come to terms with that, and losing Bruce has certainly forced me back into the headspace where I am once again grappling with how to manage a growing cumulative loss. For me, and perhaps for you, music is a big part of that.
If I were sharing music with Bruce that had to do with death and loss, I might have started here. I know that when listening to Anna Von Hausswolff, I have often wondered what Bruce would think of her music.
My daughter loves listening to Anna Von Hausswolff, particularly the song ‘Mountains Crave’, off the same album as ‘Goodbye’ above. We listened to both of those songs soon after Bruce passed as we drove the dirt roads of Vermont on our way to playgrounds. They helped.
Thinking about what Bruce shared with me musically, I am often brought back to Alice Coltrane. We went to see her for what I believe was her last concert and it was an amazing experience. Bruce had shared her music with me again and again and she seems like a fitting inclusion to this little conversation. I feel like he might have played me this in response to my share. I certainly remember reaching out to him to offer thanks for sharing her with me and by extension to my daughter, after dancing her so sleep in my arms on a rainy spring morning when she was an infant. We’ve been listening to her ever since.
I never go a proper chance to play Naoka Sakata for Bruce, but I would have liked to hear his thoughts. Most of my exposure to improvised piano came from Bruce and I suspect he would have enjoyed this selection from her new album ‘Infinity’.
I think I’m going to close out this musical sharing session with some Jeff Parker. Bruce and I once drove to Madison, Wisconsin from our stomping grounds outside of Detroit to attend a small jazz festival and one of the attractions was the chance for us to see Parker play. We got to talk with Parker afterwards, which was special, and our appreciation of his music, especially his solo and improvisational stuff, was something we constantly returned to in our musical conversations. This album was the last one we talked about together, so it seems fitting to include it here.
I’ll come back to Bruce’s couch and continue sharing stuff with you, sooner than later. It is a good place to honor Bruce and many other people who have shared so much with me and it seems proper to give those offerings back to the universe, to pay it forward if you will. Feel free to get in touch if you have any thoughts or comments, or if you would be interested in sharing music here yourself.
Peace.
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