The Unexaggerated Death of Arthur Lee (1945 - 2006)

The sad but not wholly unexpected (well, at least not for the last thirty years) news of Arthur Lee's death recalls others I had the miraculous privilege to see perform second time around, before the curtains came down for the last time.

Arthur "Killer" Kane for one, bass guitarist with the New York Dolls, same time two years ago in the middle of a successful reunion tour of England and Europe. Same cause of death - complications through leukemia. I saw them playing in Morrissey's Meltdown at the Royal Festival Hall, London, a month before his death. They were on unexpectedly ripping form.

These are my notes from the gig -

"Silvain to the audience at the royal festival hall re Arthur, "He wrote this!" Shades of Derek Smalls in Spinal Tap.

Later "He doesn't move, he's a monster, (stage cockney) He's a bloomin' monster!"

Johansen, clearly enjoying himself, "You know, 2 weeks ago I was this fuckin' bedraggled like folksinger with a... a fucking beard, like John Martyn?
Now look at me, I look like one of the fucking Scissor Sisters!"

While above it all sat Morrisey, alone in a box, and other luminaries scattered around.
Everybody wanted to see the New York Dolls. And the whole place was rocking and feeling good and I guess 99.9% of us had never seen them other than record covers and offshoots.

Standing ovation - and a sense of a beginning rather than the tired old resurrection many were expecting.

Thanks Arthur. At the risk of wrong diagnosis its a shame you never made the rooms.

In the immortal words of Johansen, uttered on that same hallowed stage,
"Lets sing a Gene Pitney song, just for the fuck of it!"

(Posted by nick mercer on July 21, 2004 12:57 AM)

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So, I just read on the net (Rolling Stone 1 hour ago) that Arthur Lee singer/ songwriter/guitarist and founder and frontman of the band "Love" had died aged 61 of "complications ensuing from leukemia". His wife was at his bedside in Memphis.

I saw him on the "Forever Changes" tour with an orchestra, same venue. Don't know whether the same year or year before - but the buzz was the same,especially when he'd got rid of the orchestra and it was just him and the band playing that peculiarly fresh mix of grungedelic street-acid. I tried to catch it on paper at the gig -

"Arthur Lee a striking figure well over six feet tall with a resurrected "Love", started off shaky, got the setpiece out the way, then really began to perform. I almost shook his hand at the end (I'd run down to the front for the encore - watched him from 3 feet away) but my english reserve and my codependence got the better of me. The gig was dynamite. As I listened to the thunder and roar of the crowd I recalled the words of Arthur Kane, "for twenty years I was told I was a loser and was forgot - now, they've asked me back!"

Well, no-one would accuse Arthur Lee of being "forgot" anytime since the sixties, but drugs and prisons saw to it he was more heard about than heard.

Yet the fact remains that 38 years on I still play that album occasionally; my sons play it. And thats a remarkable testament to the depth and purity of Lee's vision and the talent and will that enabled him to convert it to vinyl.

Like Arthur Kane, who struggled with alcoholism, its a great shame that Arthur Lee, an addict like many of the most gifted of his contemporaries, never made recovery - but each man's journey is his own and known only to God.

So, Thanks again Arthur. Your music introduced colour into our lives, showed me and my friends a doorway out of the misery of sixties Liverpool. Allowed us to believe we deserved more than dead-end jobs and hopelessness.

Where others offered increased political awareness as the only alternative
(and a life of earnest worthiness - too much like hard work for the likes of me)
you whetted our appetites for the good life - sex drugs and rock and roll for all - preferably in a warm and sunny clime.
You and others like you told us we deserved it - were entitled.
And, you know something? You were right.

Thanks, Arthur, Rest In Peace

My son Adam on Bad Lads Army

My son's moment of infamy almost denied him by the anonymity of a bucket.

At one time I thought I'd cringe with shame with such public exposure of one of our family. Now I find I've got no shame left, which is a relief and a comfort.

On the contrary, I'm delighted he's had the confidence to take a risk and have a go.
I'm very proud of him.

Having said that, whether I'll enjoy the same clarity of vision after next Tuesday when I'm on it screaming and shouting remains to be seen.

After Work at Sharp

Home from work after a satisfying day. Behind me piano sonata 20 in G major Beethoven played by Jean-bernard Pommier quietly colours the room. I'm lying on the bed full of Sues home-made soup and pork and gorgonzola sausages with a big mug of darjeeling tea. Now Schubert, Winterreise - the wonders of media player on shuffle. Legs pleasantly aching head serenely empty untroubled by rage resentment or anxiety i am suddenly inexplicably at peace. Thank you