1988: JoJo wrote me back

…her life was saved by rock and roll
(Yeah, rock and roll)

I’ll never forget this kindness from Jonathan Richman.

Between 19 and 22, as I was getting marginally better at playing guitar, and as I was writing my first songs and performing them at open mics and such, Jonathan Richman was easily my biggest and most glaringly obvious inspiration.

I still believe he’s one of the great oddball geniuses of our time—and the inarguable champion and best friend of everything from spontaneous dance parties to chewing gum wrappers to the unassailable public branding of a young Pablo Picasso. He’s also the John Muir of travel by bus—I have on two (2) occasions been subjected to long and passionate lectures from Jojo on bus culture and why it could save America’s soul.

Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers - New England [totp2]

Anyway, my 3rd year of college, I wrote an unbelievably lame and fawning fan letter to Jonathan Richman, acknowledging how much his stuff had meant to me. And he totally wrote me back.

The Modern Lovers-Hospital

Seriously: just seeing the phrase, “Velvet Underground” written in Jojo’s blue ballpointed longhand made me feel like I’d had an audience with rock and roll royalty.

The Velvet Underground - “Candy Says”

That was 20 years ago, and I still think about it a lot. And I’m still really grateful for it.

Jonathan Richman Interview 1978

And, I thought about it again two nights ago at Hazlewood when Roderick introduced me to one of my other heroes. As is so often the case when I disappear into star-struck idiot mode, I blathered about the YFFs and the Fastbacks and the way Kurt’s solos sound like someone’s falling out of an airplane, but is pretty confident they’ll land near a place with good burgers and cute waitresses.

Young Fresh Fellows - “Still There’s Hope”

Yes: I also told him that as far as I’m concerned, he’s the fucking soul of fucking rock n roll and that what he does matters intensely to me and a lot of other people I know. And you know what? He was exactly as insanely nice and not creeped out as I expected and hoped. He was, in fact, surpassingly kind and demonstrably grateful for the remark. In a way that made me a little wobbly.

Husker Du live in London pt. 1

In addition to being cool and very weird guys, dudes like Kurt Bloch and Jonathan Richman—like anyone from Craig Finn to Chris Murphy to Richard Thompson to Gregg Gillis to Bruce Springsteen to Bob Pollard to any of my other heroes—understand why rock and roll is there. What it’s for. How it runs on some secret mix of unresolvably kinetic energy and impossible affections.

Rolling Stones - Rocks Off (1972)

They know what it does. And they each have certainly had people in their lives who filled the same role that they’ve, in turn, filled for me.

The Hold Steady - “Stuck Between Stations”

It’s a weird thing, but intense music nerds really get this relationship—it’s not just the worshiped and the worshipper—it’s something more profound and grounded. It’s about the equivalent of a secret handshake that B-minus casual listeners and fans of “Best-ofs” don’t know, won’t understand, and probably couldn’t learn. It’s really closer to meeting a fellow veteran or a long-lost schoolmate.

No matter that you’d never met before, you can instantly bond over the atrocious treatment of Badfinger’s finest record or why D’Addario XL (.10-.46) are the best, the delicate topic of 80s Japanese Strats, or how a fourth-hand Rat pedal and a borrowed Peavey Bandit can save your life for a little while.

Sonic Youth - Teenage Riot

THE CRAMPS TEAR IT UP

When I told Kurt Bloch his work mattered, he didn’t go “Hey, great, thanks, kid.” He leapt forward, and he embraced me, and he thanked me like I’d found and returned his favorite pony.

Because we get it. Even though a fella like Kurt’s (obviously) playing at a different level, and although there’s a pretty good chance we’ll never exchange more than those 3-4 sentences ever again, it’s a good thing that we had that drinky little chat. Good thing for both of us, I think. Sure hope anyhow. Every rock and roll handshake is a good one.

Bruce Springsteen - “Thunder Road” (1975)

If you can’t find something in your life that makes you this excited about being alive, walk outside right now. Pull up the Fellows or the Fastbacks on your iPod, play it as loud as you can, and start walking.