the Dying, the Dead
Some pandemic projects take longer than others…
And if I’m being honest, the dying, the dead is more than a pandemic project.
In November of 2019, I lost my dear friend, Eric Holloway. He’d been battling depression for years. His journey took him back home to NYC, and he couldn’t keep up the fight. I went back to New York for his memorial service at the end of February, 2020. I spent a week walking around the city, reconnecting with old friends, finding myself passing significant landmarks — my friend’s apartment, my last apartment in the city, the nursing home where Bucky Pizzarelli was slowly dying, the Dakota and Strawberry Fields. James Taylor’s American Standard was about to be released, and John Pizzarelli, one of the album’s producers, helped me see a couple special performances. A few days after I left the city live shows were being canceled, then the The City That Never Sleeps shut down and all but emptied out.
A month later, as we were still coming to grips with the pandemic and the lockdown, Bucky passed away. A week after that, his wife, John’s mom, Ruth, passed. And as the days went by more friends lost parents and loved ones. When summer came along my father was in the hospital, diagnosed with congestive heart failure. They said six months, and he began the long process of dying. He hung on for another 3-1/2 years…
I wrote the first song, “never you mind,” the day I heard Bucky passed away. It all came out in about an hour, channeling the frustration of not being able to physically be there for the ones you love. If I’d only known…
In isolation, a little FaceTime songwriters group started up with my dear, dear friends Lincoln Barr and Mark Cassano. Most of the rest of the songs on this album came out of those sessions — the title track, for the City of New York, “this charming man” and “the worst wingman ever” for Eric, “end to end” for everyone. I probably could have wrapped this up when the world started opening up again, but… you know…
Eventually I realized I had to start getting this thing done if I wanted my father to hear it. There’s an email thread with Johnny, Eric, Dan, and Keith from March of 2022 trying to coordinate studio dates. That didn’t happen. Eventually we did sneak in a day in August of 2023 laying down “never you mind,” with my brother Scott on drums, and Dad got to hear the roughs, at least, before he passed just before Christmas. That led to some changes to lyrics and another song, for him and for Eric, “instead of goodbye,” about, basically, how bad I am at phone calls. As I became more focused on getting the record done, I felt I needed one more song, and somehow I realized how well “She Said She Said” would fit, with a few minor adjustments. Plus, it’s probably my favorite Beatles song, John Lennon, Eric, and I are all Libras, and it brought me back to how the whole thing started, back in NYC, when I was staying just a few blocks from the Dakota, when I stopped to let myself melt into the flickering gas lamps that bookend its entrance…
the Dying, the Dead is for those we’ve lost and those left behind, especially Dad and Eric, Boss Man and Tütù, Cass and Millie, Bucky and Ruth, Marilyn Batali, Scott Brown, and Jim Hunnicutt, but mostly for Scott, my brother, best friend, and first bandmate, my ski, golf, and fishing buddy, my favorite roommate and my rock. Scott was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a few days before we started mixing the Dying, the Dead. He passed away a month before it was released. I miss him every day.
the Dying, the Dead can be purchased digitally or pre-ordered on beautiful heavyweight vinyl via Bandcamp, or purchased digitally via whatever they call iTunes these days, and is available to stream on Tidal, Apple Music, Spotify, YouTube Music and elsewhere (except Amazon, because Jeff Bezos can go kick rocks).