05 agosto 2006


Adios a Arthur Lee

Arthur Lee, de Love - uno de nuestros grupos favoritos - murió de leucemia el 3 de Agosto.
Nuestro admirado Bart Davenport, fan a su vez de Love y Arthur Lee, le ha escrito una carta en la que dice:

"Dear Arthur,
I just heard the sad news. You have left the world of the living. On one of these R.I.P. bulletins, someone said she felt like she knew you. I think a lot of us felt that way and sadly, I don't know if you ever really knew that. We told you over and over but you always seemed as if you existed on your own plain. Your songs begged questions that no audience could ever answer. We could only sing along with you. Sometimes, you had your own answers...

This is the time of life that I am living
And I'll face each day with a smile
For the time that I've been given's
Such a little while
And the things that I must do
Consist of more than style
There are places that I am going

This is the only thing that I am sure of
And that all that lives is gonna die
And there'll always be some
People here to wonder why
And for every happy hello
There will be goodbye
There'll be time for you to put yourself on

Last night, about an hour after you died, I was in a club sound-checking with one of your songs, Wonder People. I had no idea that you were gone. After a few months battle with leukemia, my hero Arthur Lee has passed away. I feel quite sad about it. I have always felt very akin to your unique and sometimes ridiculous personality, mixed with that Jeckle & Hyde musicality. Your refusal to commit to "black" or "white" music, thus walking a surreal line between the two, has always inspired me. Because THATS HOW I FEEL! I identified with you because you were unconcerned with categorization. You wouldnt let any mutherfuckers put you in a box. Although they did succeed in locking you up for a few years! (They never did throw away the key.) When you were angry we, your fans were angry with you. And when you were joyful, pastoral we went there too. We vicariously stood up to the bullshit in this culture through you. And will continue to. When your songs took on that world-weary eeriness, that feeling that all isnt what it seems here in paradise, we knew it to be true. If you were ever bitter about a lack of recognition for your accomplishments, then damnit, so were we. But at the end of the day, it always seemed as if you were alone, even with all those thousands of fans. The look on your face portrayed a man who felt misunderstood. A good friend of mine once said, Feeling loved is synonymous with feeling understood.
I remember slipping my CD into your jacket pocket one night when you were too drunk to notice. Did you ever listen to it? If you did, I bet you hated it - some ice cream clown, Bryan Maclean type shit. And there was this one night at Bottom Of The Hill where a young John Kent delivered the Snoopy Sound perhaps as good as Snoopy ever did.
Goodbye friend,
- Bart Davenport"

Y nosotros, recordando cada momento de nuestra vida en el que Love fueron la banda sonora, no podemos añadir nada más.

Oh, the snot has caked against my pants
It has turned into crystal
There's a bluebird sitting on a branch
I guess I'll take my pistol
I've got it in my hand
Because he's on my land

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