Music to remember a man by

It’s now six weeks since my dear friend John died. That six weeks apparently has magical powers. Sometimes it shortens so much as to feel like it was just yesterday when he died; and at other times it expands so much as to feel like it has become another, parallel world.

One of the ways I try to make sense of – and cope with – the world is through music. There are so many great artists out there who have just the right words, just the right sound, provoke just the right memory, and I find comfort in their art.

During one of my “dips” a couple of weekends back, I decided it was time to do A John F Playlist. Because there are songs that remind me of him; there are songs he loved; there are songs that say something appropriate. Of course, the 34-track long-list has had to be honed down so that it could fit on a CD. There were some great “almost but not quite” tracks that didn’t survive the cull: PJ Harvey’s Silence, Tim Minchin’s Not Perfect, Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus amongst others. But I like what has survived and wanted to share.

1. The Flaming Lips Do You Realize?? (Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots)

This is the gut-punching reality hitter:

Do You Realize - that you have the most beautiful face
Do You Realize - we're floating in space -
Do You Realize - that happiness makes you cry
Do You Realize - that everyone you know someday will die

Yup. FPOS or what? And yet, it is a beautiful song, managing a strong thread through its fragility.

2. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds The Weeping Song (The Good Son)

This one just captures the sadness that has pervaded John’s circle of family, friends and acquaintances.

This is a weeping song
A song in which to weep
While we rock ourselves to sleep.

There is always – seemingly – enough sadness for one more cry. I don’t know if John knew Cave’s music, but I do know he laughed at some of the outrageous selective quotes I told from The Death Of Bunny Munro as I read it at Long Beach one summer.

3. Eels It’s A Motherfucker (Daisies Of The Galaxy)

Another simple, beautiful, reality checker:

It's a motherfucker
Being here without you
Thinking 'bout the good times
Thinking 'bout the bad
And I won't ever be the same

Mark Everett knows loss, and knows sometimes it just can’t be dressed up, be smoothed out, be varnished. It just is, and that can be a motherfucker alright.

4. Gong The Pot Head Pixies (Flying Teapot (Radio Gnome Invisible Part I))

This makes me laugh, and remember another side of times with John. Nuff said.

5. Bob Dylan Political World (Oh Mercy)

As Bob sings:

We live in a political world   

and I miss John in my political world. Hardly a political day goes by without my wondering “What would John have thought?” and sometimes having a good idea of the answer, but often not. I watched a bit of the UK House of Lords debate on the equal marriage proposals and remembered John’s delight at getting dinner at the Lords and a tour of parliament a good few years back. He loved the over-the-top pomp and glitz, and the ludicrous history there (the Queen’s robing room had him in stitches). And he would have found Lord Tebbit’s ludicrous speech (with its fear of a “lesbian Queen on the throne”) as hysterically laughable and nastily vitriolic in pretty equal measure.

6. Frank Zappa Half A Dozen Provocative Squats (200 Motels)  

John’s favourite Zappa lyric which he would sing out loud as he danced around the apartment:

Out of the shower she squeezes her spots

Brushes her teeth

Shoots a deoderant spray up her twot

It made him laugh, and made me laugh too.

7. Bomb The Bass Bug Powder Dust (Clear)

Extolling the world of William Burroughs

I think it’s time to discuss your philosophy of drug use as it relates to artistic endeavour

I just remember John through this. He knew more about medication than anyone else I've known, and shared his expertise with great care and thoughtfulness. His ability to research possible treatments for whatever was ailing those he loved, and to explain what might be going on in ways that were at once understandable is something I miss. Oh, and he would have liked the references to

            Mugwump jism

8. Original Stage Cast Frank Mills (Hair!)

Simply John’s favourite song from Hair!, and his favourite version.

9. Julian Cope The Black Sheep’s Song (Black Sheep)

I don’t know that John ever heard this, but it reminds me of him, and of me and him.

I am the black sheep of this flock
And I can answer to no one.
I see you are the black sheep of your flock, too,
Methinks it takes one to know one.

 I loved my conversations with John when we were both seemingly thinking and believing the same things about the world, black sheep in the flock together.

10. Peter Gabriel Don’t Give Up (So)

This captures the loving group of friends that surrounded John. He cultivated good friends, partly because of his loyalty, honesty and utter commitment to others, and partly because he engendered the same in his friends. It reminds me that John’s intense self-sufficiency was bolstered by his knowledge that there were many who he could turn to, if push came to shove.

11. Tom Waits I Don’t Wanna Grow Up (Bone Machine)

Whilst I don’t remember ever seeing John dancing around singing this, I picture him doing just that when I hear it! And I think it captures something of the spirit of John who, in meeting Kenneth, actually did “grow up”, as he reflected on it.

12. The Proclaimers Letter From America (This Is The Story)

John loved Scotland. I treasure a holiday we did with him and Kenneth, remembering climbing the top road above Tarbert and looking down on the harbour and how relaxing it was for John. And me and him going to get chips on a Hogmanay evening in Glasgow. And his love of the “hairy coos”!

13. Original Stage Cast The Flesh Failures (Let The Sunshine In) (Hair!)

Okay, so one of my own desert island discs, this, but somehow Hair! needed a second representation.

Singing our space songs on a spider web sitar
Life is around you and in you

 The joy and sadness this brings me every time I hear it mirrors the joy and sadness I feel when thinking of John.

14. E.S.T. Believe, Beleft, Below (Seven Days Of Falling)

Another one of my desert island ones, this is just about the most perfect four and bit minutes of lush jazz imaginable. Esbjörn Svensson, the pianist who led this trio, also died far too early. But in this piece I feel he found the elusive link between pure music and the soul.

15. David Bowie Heroes (Heroes)

This is one of those tracks I recently heard and immediately thought “That’s John”.

We can be heroes, just for one day

I don’t think it is an overstatement to call him a hero. The changes he made in the lives of so many were heroic. The way in which he lived his no compromise life was heroic. His capacity to care was heroic. His thinking was heroic.

16. Pink Floyd Wish You Were Here (Wish You Were Here (Experience edition))

How, how I wish you were here

That sums it up. The version (as John would indulge me in this) has, of course, to be the right one. Not the one from the special edition half-speed mastered vinyl album I bought in a now-defunct New York store. Not the standard album version. But the one sought after for decades by Floyd-heads and finally released as part of the Experience edition. This has the legendary Stephane Grappelli violin improvisations in it, and they bring another layer of poignancy to an already perfect track.

So that’s my John F Playlist. I think he would have liked it as a compilation album, though would not have agreed with all my rationales for the choices. But I know he would have known how much love had gone into pulling it together, and would have (quietly) enjoyed that.

Some reflections on a friend

Flying to New York because of the death of a dear friend is the worst reason to come here. And here I am. Because dear John Falkenberg has died.

Having spent the last 24 hours with his husband, Kenneth, and a wonderful group of John’s closest friends and John’s parents and siblings, I am struck by the absolute privilege it has been to have had John in my life, and to have been a part of his.

John F was the man who introduced me to “FPOS”. His personal acronym for “fucking piece of shit” – a phrase that never loses the satisfaction of its utterance, however many times it is repeated and in whatever context. Traffic. Politics. Airlines. Customer service. Weather. Food. People. Software. It can all be a fucking piece of shit. I find it cathartic.

John F is the only person I have known who actually did throw pieces of mis-functioning hardware at walls. Whether phones or printers, those fucking pieces of shit did get thrown. It’s what they deserved.

John F was my favourite person to talk politics with. Whether UK or US politics, the man knew his stuff; he could read political runes well, and understood economic impact on domestic and international politics in a way I would just listen and learn from. And he hated fucking idiot, fucking hypocrite, fucking racist, fucking homophobic, fucking gun-toting, fucking idiot politicians with a delicious zeal. Cross-Atlantic phone-calls in the midst of election campaigns were particularly important. We’d share our elation, disgust or utter outrage as results came through. John’s pre-election night State-by-State analysis of the second Obama election (yes, there was a spreadsheet of scenarios and tallies) helped my engagement with, and understanding of, what turned out to be one of the elation nights. And his level of disbelief at the disgrace of the UK coalition being formed and somehow surviving was great fun. One of the last politics conversations I had with him was about the coalition tax and benefit changes that kicked in in April. He could not understand why there was no rioting on UK streets. “No, seriously, why isn’t it happening?”

I loved John’s music collection. I proudly have and play a number of original US sleeve vinyl albums of his. He introduced me to the Grateful Dead. He loved Hair! as much as I do. And he was a Frank Zappa fan. What’s not to like about all that? Seeing Hair! in the open air theatre in Central Park was a shared highlight. As was he and me seeing Dweezil Zappa’s Zappa Plays Zappa show on Long Island. And he queued for 90 minutes with me outside New York’s Beacon Theatre in 2006 to get front row seats for a PJ Harvey solo set – an example of his love of me perhaps more than his love of PJ.

John laughed at my jokes, which can never be a bad thing in my book. I have an email trail with him as the new pope was being elected and there was some earnest discussion of the possible name he might take. My suggestion of “Popus Cuntiflex” tickled John greatly.

The days, months and years ahead will be less rich without John F. In particular, the debut UK performance of 200 Motels in October which he was so looking forward to coming to will now be a sad memorial. But somehow, in the midst of the grief, I was reminded of Lawrence M Krauss’ quote that “Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded….was created in the nuclear furnaces of stars”. I have a deep sense of sadness that another nuclear furnace of a star has been lost.

And yes, John F’s death is a fucking piece of shit.