Three nights ago I was back at the cigar bar with my friends Peter, Patrick, and Mark watching the Bulls lose to the Suns. We were debating themes of the Italian film L’Avventura, my two cents being that it’s about how boring life is if it’s spent chasing death’s meaning.
It’s been one month since I was in this same place, with the same guys, and got the text telling me Taylor Hawkins had died. I contemplated, “It’s still so hard to believe the guy who trained like an athlete, had a dream job with guys he loved and a growing family, could be gone this soon.” This made me wonder, could a person reach such a pinnacle that they surrender themselves to obscurity? Death would be the perfect alibi. Consider the tabloid tradition of theorizing death as an elaborate hoax i.e., Elvis, D.B. Cooper, Amelia Earhart, hell even Kurt Cobain.
I shook my head at the ridiculousness of my selfish desire mythologizing Taylor’s passing being fake in some way. Too many people are in too much pain, and I believe that a good person could never invoke such tragedy willfully. By all accounts, including my own, Taylor was one heck of a good person.
After publishing my Letter to Taylor, I received a flood of messages from people moved by my words. Before publishing, I had tried to be descriptive, figuratively and emotionally, but knew no matter how good my prose, pictures would speak volumes. With artists of all mediums sharing Taylor-inspired works, I stumbled upon a photographer Andi Taylor, who had a collection of amazing Foo and Taylor concert images. After a few DM’s, we bonded as mutual fans and she allowed me to include her photographs in my letter.
I’m grateful for my Foo fandom, most of all the friends I’ve made through shows. There’s no reason that tradition couldn’t continue even though Taylor was gone and the tour canceled. So, I invited Andi and her husband Zac to coffee. On a perfect spring afternoon, we met in the Valley and the three of us snapped into conversation like perfectly fitted puzzle pieces. We shared our disdain for the salacious speculation and entitled decrees for further details on the band’s grief. We marveled at the tributes and compassion expressed worldwide and shared our personal introspections on life and death. It sparked the ignition of a musical machine I’d feared had been broken forever, yet there we were… healing.
“Here,” Andi said pushing a thick cardboard envelope toward me. “What’s this?” I asked. I’d not brought anything to offer other than friendship and was caught off guard. “Open it,” she said with Zac grinning beside her. Inside were two black and white prints from Andi’s collection. The first is a perfectly timed picture of Taylor snapping a cymbal from behind his kit. His kick drum was scrawled with Charlie R.I.P., a nod to Rolling Stones drummer Charlie Watts after he had died. The photograph’s symbolism existentially captures a tribute to two iconic drummers, music, life, and death forever entangled in a loop.
“This one is my favorite,” Andi said as I revealed the next print. It’s Taylor taking a piggyback ride on Pat Smear, both beaming with vibrant smiles on their faces. They say you never work a day if you enjoy your job, and these guys had the best fucking job. It’s not the fact that they’re rock stars, but that these five particular guys found each other. For twenty-six years they fought the wheel of time with smiles on their faces. Marriage, divorce, births, sickness, health, even a broken leg, and Taylor, Pat, Nate, Rami, and Dave kept showing up, smiling and spreading joy infectiously to their fans. A heartfelt reminder to keep good people close and good times will follow.
Before parting ways we exchanged numbers and a list of shows we were looking forward to seeing. Indeed our paths will cross again in an audience or on the streets of Los Angeles. I drove home, of course blasting the Foo, grateful for the start of a new friendship that may never have happed, yet has because of Taylor.
You can check out Andi’s photography here: https://www.andiktaylor.com
Her hub Zac makes rad music: Van Bellman
So good to come back to review the sentiments expressed a month ago and the expanding multiverse of Taylor (and Charlie and Bonham...) as we meander on through to the other side (oh Densmore). Thank you Cory, may I have another?