ceciliatan

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

My eyes took a while to absorb the words on the back of the record cover, maybe because of the low light level, which remember Jordan had done supposedly for the good of my concussion. (Maybe it had worked, too, because I felt fine, if tired.) The single in my hands, I learned once the words sank in, was a fundraiser for an AIDS awareness group. The song and the musical group were both called “Positive Thinking.” There was a blurb about the importance of non-discrimination of HIV status right under the photo of my old roommate Roger and four other men I can only describe as flagrantly flaming. All looked healthy but the implication was that they were all HIV positive.

The tips of my fingers felt numb.

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

(22 days left in the DGC Kickstarter!)

I’ll relate to you one more Bradley story before I get back to talking nonstop about Ziggy.

The night we’d told Bradley and Marvelle we were hiring them both, we ened up at Jordan’s. When Carynne had talked to him to vet Marvelle, he’d mentioned we should drop by the loft late if we were around.

Apparently there was some music industry function—I don’t remember what—and it was Jordan’s usual M.O. to get people together socially because that so often lead to them maybe working together professionally, later, with each other as well as him. Maybe. (Or maybe Jordan just liked to have parties and that’s what happens when you know people.)

Anyway. The upshot was we went, and I figured now that I had hired Marvelle I could ask Jordan to tell me more about him, but I never actually got around to it during the party. Instead I found myself sitting in the corner by the keyboards and recording equipment watching everyone and wondering whether it was really true that other people enjoy parties more than I do or if it’s that they’re just better at acting like they’re enjoying themselves.

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

That night I asked Ziggy super-casually if we could hit Limelight. I had no idea if Jordan would be there but he had been at least half the times I’d gone over the past couple of years, even when he wasn’t deejaying, and in the far back of my head I had this inkling that I wanted to talk to him. But I was too busy trying to play everything casual until I could sort out how I felt about the album. Or until I could warm up to it.

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

(Happy Thanksgiving, USians! Happy Thursday, everyone else! -ctan)

Turns out everyone but me thought we were going to Jordan’s after The Cat Club. I caught up with the plan quickly, though. I went to say goodbye to Artie and found him talking to Barrett, who I hadn’t even realized was there. “How long you in town for?” Barrett asked me, when it was clear I was leaving.

“That might be up to Ziggy,” I said jokingly but it was the truth.

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

So living at Jordan’s turned out to be like living at Grand Central Station. There was always someone interesting coming or going. Musicians, songwriters, deejays, New York art scene people—it wasn’t always clear who was connected to him for actual work and who was just there to hang around. Then again, I suppose making connections is part of the work when you’re in the business. The old cliche is “it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” I’d say it’s more like both: you have to know your what, but you have to know the who, too.

Jordan was a connector. He was a match-maker. A people-person.

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

So I learned a very important lesson about tequila.

The lesson was this: I remembered way more about what happened when I was on LSD than after two drinks of tequila. At least, I think it was two. Like I said: I don’t remember.

Let me back up to what I do remember.