One of the last times I got a call from Noel, the Black Swans were heading into NYC to play a show in Brooklyn in a bar in the back of a record store. And despite not having slept or gone home for a couple of days, and having a considerable amount to do that night, I decided I had to head into town to catch up with them. It seemed ridiculous at the time, but I guess I now understand why. And, as usual, I got a education from Noel on a bunch of new artists as he and I went rifling through the stacks of records in the store.
I first met Noel in the dorm – our first year at ohio u in ’89, but we did not hang out much, apart from a few isolated jams in the lounge. He lived down the hall again the second year – different dorm, and though we spent a fair bit of time listening to all sorts of crazy tunes, it was rare to sit and play. And at first it was only the music that clicked – we were far too alike, and neither of us the sort to naturally stir up the conversation. Year one at 9 Oak was a revelation (well, in all sorts of ways), but I spent countless hours across countless nights creating the soundtrack to all that I saw with my dear friend Noel; passing songs and musical ideas back and forth till the wee hours. Musically, I learned more about dissonance and tension and relief from him than from everyone I have ever played with put together. But I also got to know the beautiful soul of Noel Sayre. He was rather timid and humble in “real” life, and could be huge, demonstrative, and passionate when attached to a guitar or particularly a violin. In the course of that year, I also got to know Noel as a brilliant mind, a kind spirit, and a great friend. He was the guy that would share his last (perfectly-crafted) piece of toast or the last of a jar of his mom’s pickles without a second thought. One night at the end of that year, Noel came up with the thought to put together a bluegrass or string band. We talked about for a minute – I had a mandolin that I had never really learned to play, and was already playing some other music that would lend itself well to being acoustic. Of course, it should be as simple as saying it would be so.
Willin’ (in the acoustic form) fell together in no time, and carried on for several years that now seem far too short. It was the combination of people and songs that were (to me anyway) familiar and comfortable that facilitated the experimentation in the band, and the time spent jamming with Noel was at the core of it. We would trade riffs and jabs and quotes from everything from 20’s swing to Charles Ives to 80’s pop, and a handful of songs evolved into little symphonies - complex orchestrations that still had clear ties to those nights sitting around the living room.
My heart goes out to Jerry and the other Swans – each time I’ve seen them play in NYC, it was clear that Jerry saw that same genious that I saw, and connected on that deeper level for which there are no words (though I am here punting around trying to find them). And of course to Jon and John and Neal, who also shared many years of music-making. I know they, as I, have lost a brother. I am happy to learn that there are a few recorded treasures yet to be heard. Songs I have written as recently as last year have a spot reserved for Noel’s violin, and I don’t have a clue how I will fill them. Big shoes man, big shoes.
Peace- Tim Coyle
|