Tell me what you have and that's when I'll know if you have anything to start with...

once in a blue moon, you get to a show just early enough to catch the opening band, and you fall in love. you've probably never heard of them. maybe they're local. maybe they're not. but something about the newness of the sound, the way it catches your ear and pulls you through, it sticks. and it leaves you wanting more.

this is my memory of mates of state. years ago, at slim's one night, we were introduced to their discordant, sing-at-the-top-of-your-lungs harmonizing. it didn't hurt that, together, they're two pretty hot individuals. that week, i found a song i loved and put in on a mix. (don't ask me the name. such things have fallen out of my head). i've been singing at the top of my lungs to their complicated, beautiful melodies ever since. perhaps our collective memory can recall some details from the past--who we were there to see in the first place, who was actually with us and what the hell the name of that song is...

tonight, emalie and i made it to the independent to catch the first of two nights they'll be playing. we made it just in time to catch one of the two opening bands, black kids. can't say i fell in love in quite the romantic way i remember swooning over MoS, but they were pretty damn great. big sound, great set, jump around and have fun with lotsa instruments kinda music. after the set, some guy standing next to me asked if I'd come to see Mates of State. yeah, i said. well, what kind of music do they play. hmm, i said. well. it's kind of hard to describe. see, there's this couple, and she plays the keyboard and he plays the drums and they do this amazing harmony thing that's sometimes really discordant and strange but its beautiful and... you're gonna tell me the whole story aren't you, he asked. yeah. yeah i am. i guess i can't do it any other way. welcome to being me:)

two or three songs into MoS's set, i thought to myself, THIS, this is why I: a) love the city I live in and b) love that i'm alive and get to experience such things as the show that's happening in front of me. just as i was waxing nostalgic for the days of slim's and beer and dolores park on a friday so long ago, they yell out to a girl in the crowd and bring her up on stage to dance with them for their next number. "we met her outside, and she's awesome," they said. suddenly, there's some other guy on stage, and as the girl moves to the far left, he leans into the mic and, in only the way that can happen in my romantic, school-girl crush vision of this band, he proposes to this girl. "this city is so cliche," he begins. "i knew from the moment i met you..." and thrusts the box with ring in to the air. the crowd, all crushed out, just like me, goes totally wild. she, thankfully, says yes, though is rather baffled and dazed by the whole shebang. they kiss, jump into each other's arms and the band bursts into one of its hot, hot dancy numbers.

now, i'm not here to tell you MoS is the BEST band EVAH. i am here to tell you, though, that what they do is pretty damn great. they're good. talented, creative, energetic, unique and passionate. they sing about calling people on their bullshit, lying to the ones you love, doing it all over again, and making up in the end, after all. they hold a pretty special place in my heart and, every time i see them on stage, i think about the rush of love at first sight.

dear mates of state, thanks for coming back to the bay that was once your home.

infectiously brilliant

Tom's latest creation: The New Fish Car

This morning i learned that a brilliant man lost his life at ocean beach yesterday. Tom Kennedy, art car genious, artist extraodinaire, inspirer of light and bringer of love was pulled down by the riptide yesterday afternoon. throughout the day today, nearly 70 people have weighed in on their memories of tom, the sadness of the loss, and the utter joy he inspired in their lives. you can read them all here at laughingsquid.com. a tragic loss but what a measure of a lived well lived. 

I met tom just a month ago out at the box shop. bright eyed, i started going out the shop *finally* after many years of wanting to work with metal. running around the yard, i met haideen (his wife) and tom one sunday afternoon. haideen was in the process of making a gorgeous orange hippo for one cute lil’ 2 yr old lulu, and tom was busy at work on one of his many gorgeous bells. the bell he’d transported to the shop that day was tall and lizard green and stood about 6 feet. the bell itself is encircled by a heart of spiraled metal. the intricacy, the detail, and, oh, that sound! the gorgeous, deep, resonating sound that that bell made. he said he’d made one like it for his folks and that he and haideen were planning to box this one up and send it off to her folks. i was fascinated by the work–and by the joy and light that emanated from both tom and haideen. 

last weekend, at a long FLG work day of packing up mutopia, i saw tom again. this time, while standing over the bbq table, i asked him about the bells. he told me all about the process, from beginning to end with all the steps in between–the practice, the experimentation, the evolution. he spoke with such relish, such excitement, such passion about the discovery. i told him about the project i’ve been mulling over–my first attempt at metal sculpture. in those 10 minutes we shared over pork sammiches, i got it–everything that everyone has written about him today on that post. my friend, mimi, has this great phrase she uses when she talks about people with such tremendous creative joy like Tom: infectiously brilliant. 

Though my glimpse of him was so very brief, it will always be remembered as one of those great moments in life when you know: Yes! Of course! It’s all possible. All of it. Thank you for being infectiously brilliant, Tom. You will be missed.