OH, DEATH… Part 2

Time Means Nothing Now

In my last post I told you about my dear friend, Diane Butler, who died suddenly two Tuesday’s ago of a brain aneurysm. I told you about the Honor Walk she rolled through, Beth and Jenny and I following behind. The halls of the big hospital were lined by doctors and nurses and specialists of every kind from all over the world to honor her as she went through the big OR doors to give the gifts of her body to others in death. Their faces regarded us from a better future; one completely possible. I am still high from this feeling, drained from this feeling, my skin looks like cottage cheese. Right now I’m sick in bed in Nashville. I had to cancel the other night’s Nashville book event as well as the one in Atlanta. I just hit the wall; nasty head cold, travel fatigue, work fatigue, grief fatigue… I don’t want pneumonia and/or collapse, so I chose self care. I want to thank you all who bought tickets, those of you who sold books, and of course, Ann Powers and Virginia Prescott. I’m so sorry my body is not cooperating. Your energy, care and efforts move me greatly. Thanks, everyone, for your understanding. I’m so sorry if this has caused any disappointment or inconvenience. I am certainly disappointed…  But, despite all that, the desire is still screaming and pounding inside me to tell you all about the message from that “Better Future” Diane showed me as we followed her down that hospital corridor; the message of community, joyful resistance and possibility. To tell you how tall those caregivers stood next to the notion of the cheap, lazy, dollar store brand hatred and pettiness our nation faces. We are SO much stronger. 

Diane was the greatest appreciator of music I knew. Though she was enthralled, she didn’t feel the need to know everything about music because she had the most hair-trigger groove furnace. She ignited immediately upon hearing the sounds, her face reactive and aflame. I picture her playing drums on the steering wheel of the tractor with her huge headphones on as she mowed the edges of the horse pastures on the boiling hot summer days at Squirrelwood. She is the model, eager listener all us musicians make music for. She loved it all, especially when she was there to see it in person. A ticket-buying concert goer from a young age, she got what she paid for every time. She knew the not-so-secret fact that she was one half of the circuit, the musicians, the other half. Only together are we transcendence. So if Diane is the model appreciator, who is the model musician? 

Garth Hudson died just a few short hours before Diane, on the same day, about 40 minutes north up the 87. It was not unexpected, but heartbreaking none the less. Garth was a pure-hearted friend who just wanted to play, listen, share musical knowledge and then play some more. I was such a huge fan of The Band, I had loved them since I was a kid and had seen “The Last Waltz” trillions of times. I could not get enough. Their songs sound so simple, but are SO complex. The lion’s share of that complexity had to do with Garth and his Lowrey organ. I was introduced to Garth through my dear friend, Peter J Moore. Peter is the mastering engineer I have used for every record I have ever made. Sadly, He too passed away a little over a year ago from cancer. (The big losses just keep piling on…) Paul Rigby and I had been obsessed with Garth’s playing, so back in 2005 while working on “Fox Confessor Brings The Flood” we thought “it can’t hurt to ask!?” So we called Peter who had worked with Garth on many projects, and to our great delight, he made it happen. Garth would be flying to Tucson to record with us. I honor you, Peter Moore.

Paul and I waited like teen fans waiting for the Beatles at the baggage carousel at the Tucson airport, but Garth was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, around the corner of the rubber and steel conveyor belt curve came a large wood and metal box from a different era, some boy scout galaxy, with a worn and faded “Hudson” stenciled on the top. We swooned. At a box! Haha! It was Garth’s accordion. “HOLY SHIT!” we whisper-screamed. Then we saw him; tall and smiling, wearing his huge brown buffalo coat over his Los Lobos jacket with a hat floating above his white hair and beard. Paul and I were beside ourselves and trying to keep our freak-out on the down low. Garth was immediately friendly and had a gentle way about him. We took him straight to the studio and got down to it, he was eager to get his hands on a keyboard! Garth would play crazy stuff, and several passes of it. It was completely different and freshly odd each time. Sometimes not even sounding musical! I have to admit I was a little concerned, but as soon as he was finished with the song, he came over to the mixing couch and instructed Craig what to erase on each separate track, he was very specific. When the surgical erasing was done and the various tracks were played back together, holes and all, there was left a magical, melodic, soulful, emotional piece of music that complimented and elevated everything around it. He was a goddamned master musician. I was completely in awe of him. I was teary, and I was so grateful he was there. His contributions to “Fox Confessor” are timeless and priceless and he made them just for me. No one who was there for the live-on-the-floor recording of “Margaret VS Pauline” will ever forget it. John Convertino, Joey Burns, Paul Rigby, Garth and myself. We were all suspended in mid air by Garth’s sounds. To play with such a master for even a little flash of time shows you what lies ahead if you are true to yourself. It makes you a better musician. We all owe him. That was an experience I will never be able to replicate; so singular and special and not quite real.

Garth had some minor narcolepsy and would occasionally fall asleep at the keyboard in the middle of a take. His head would gently nod forward and we would all drink coffee or talk amongst ourselves until he was ready to continue. It never took long and was never an inconvenience, it was just part of the magic person that was Garth. A little ways in we started to see the mischievous side of him too. He had become comfortable around all of us and would mess with Chris, the younger engineer at Wavelab. I don’t remember exactly what Garth’s prank was, but Chris would look about, flummoxed and Garth would sneak a wink at Paul and I. It was never mean-spirited and it was always funny. After recording Paul and Garth and I would go out to eat at Denny’s. Garth loved Denny’s and it was so much fun to go with him. He always got “Moons over My-Hammy” and a chocolate shake. We would all talk about music and crack each other up. Garth carried a briefcase with him at all times. It contained music notation paper, reeds, tapes and a portable cassette-to-cassette recorder. Garth had no qualms running you off a mixtape compilation he made of his favorite soprano sax players right there on the laminate surface of the Denny’s table you were eating on. His handwriting was that of a medieval scribe; calligraphic and precise. All those years of writing out music on dense charts had made him an artist. I still have the tape he made for me our first time at Denny’s. I treasure it. 

Garth was born in Windsor Ontario, Canada to musician parents. He came by it all so naturally. He was classically trained, but also willing to rebel against the rigid structures within classical music. He was too 3D to stay on the page! He was a deep diver, an explorer… Paul and I refer to his style as “Space Fugue.” What a showman! There are SO many impressive, astonishing things you can learn about Garth, ala his music career, especially in regards to The Band and Bob Dylan just by googling him, but nothing I’ve read captures what a playful soul he was. There’s also no talking about Garth without talking about Maud, his beloved wife. She was a performer too, a singer, and Garth always vehemently maintained she never got her due. He was angry about it. I remember Maud telling me about the first time she met Garth while singing backup for someone… Albert Collins, maybe? I can’t remember and I’m probably wrong, but Maud loved to tell the story. They loved and believed in their love story with all their hearts. They had to. They went through so many tough times together. Losing a home to a massive fire, multiple bankruptcies and illness, just to name a few. I think there were people who preyed on Garth’s good nature and stole from him, and/or just didn’t pay him. But luckily, Maud was also a really playful and hilarious person and she and Garth lit each other up! I don’t know for sure, but I believe Maud dealt with chronic pain and was medicated for it when I finally had the pleasure of meeting her. She was sometimes comfortable and bubbly, and sometimes overtired and easily frustrated. Garth was who she always wanted help from which wasn’t always easy as he was technically elderly, and at work. It was hard on both of them. But when I’d catch Maud in the right mood she’d show me pictures of the two of them when they were younger and tell me stories. She was a very generous and lively storyteller. She backed Garth as passionately for his talents as he did for hers. 

I worked with Garth several times over the years after Fox Confessor, sometimes recording and sometimes live with Maud too, like the big show that was recorded for the Sadies in Toronto, and also for a show of mine at the Bowery Ballroom following the release of “Middle Cyclone,” which Garth came to my house in Vermont to play on. He was the first chair of the “Piano Orchestra” we staged in my barn where we multi-tracked six pianos being played at once, several times over. There were many members of the New Pornographers, Paul and myself as well. It was fun as hell! He did some keyboard tracks in the dining room of the house also. At one point I recall him being in the middle of a take, suddenly standing up, and going to get a screwdriver to fix the loose strike plate on my bathroom door. It had been in his line of vision and I guess it was just bugging him? Haha! He’s also just really nice so he was also doing me a favor. Those are the things that made Garth Garth. He would talk about songs from his childhood in London, Ontario. My favorite of which was a rather dark song with a happy melody called “Junior the Steer” from an old 78 he remembered. The lyrics I can remember went something like…

I’m Junior the Steer 

happy as I can be

I eat of the grass and drink from the stream

Out the gate of this haven

I dare not break free

Cause there's a two-fisted meat packer waiting for me…

I wish I had a recording of him singing it! He would laugh like crazy. I have tried to find the song online, but no dice. It just has to live in the air in that moment as it did between us. I basically had to write the song except the first and last line as I can't remember for the life of me. It was shanty-ish. There was something about Junior’s mother and father in there? I dunno… but I was crazy about it.

Later, when Garth was finally in the assisted living facility I went to visit him a few times. The first time he did not remember me, but he insisted I not leave. He looked so small compared to the tall guy he used to be. I reminded myself that wasn’t unusual when you are getting up there in years. I felt slightly out of place, I wanted so badly not to interrupt his day or upset him. He had some memory holes and I know that can disorient people and agitate them sometimes. He asked me to operate the CD player. He had jazz standard mixes galore! CD after CD, he knew what was on every single one, and in what order the songs ran. He couldn’t really see anymore, or hear too good for that matter, so I’d locate his selections and turn them way up. Soon we were having a lovely time and he was getting what he craved; music. He’d tell me stories about musicians he’d toured with, or what was unusual about a scale someone was playing. Sometimes he would trail off mid-story and then decide on another song. It was fun. Admittedly it was a little hard to see my sweet friend so frail, but music was still making him happy and animated so I decided to trust it. I wasn’t hurt that he didn't remember me, I just hoped he wasn’t having confusing or scary episodes. Soon it was time for a nap and I said goodbye and pulled his blanket up over him. As I left I asked his kind nurses a few questions about how he was getting along and then went on my way. The next time I brought Paul Rigby, who he did remember. We couldn’t stay as long that time because we cut it too close to nap-o-clock. I’m just glad he and Paul got a chance to see one another. Paul and Garth had become really close, and Paul had traveled around the world with he and Maud in Garth’s band for a bunch of years. Paul loved Garth like an adopted dad. Garth and Maud adored Paul right back. Garth and Paul are so similar in so many ways.

One of the last times I went to see Garth was Christmas day 2021. I was driving through on my way to Phoenix to go spend time with my bandmate Jon and his wife Jen. It was late afternoon as I pulled up to the assisted living complex. I swung down from my tall truck and scuffed my way to the double glass doors. I checked in at the desk and headed for the corridor that led to Garth’s room. As I got to the main familiar hallway I noticed there was a bunch of construction happening which reduced the long passage to single file capacity. As I was approaching the narrow opening a woman in a wheelchair coming from an adjoining hallway turned right in front of me going the same direction. She was having a bit of a time in the tight space and I was accidentally right on top of her. It was a little awkward so I said, “would you like a push?” “Sure!” she enthused. I knew that voice. “MAUD!?” I gasped. She turned around. “It’s me, Neko” I said. Maud’s face had lost a lot of puffiness and I could see her eyes clearly as she wasn’t wearing her usual sunglasses. She looked great! She sparkled. What a sight for sore eyes. “Well, Neko! How are you!? What are you doing here?” I explained I was there to see Garth and I had no idea that she was living there too. “That’s where I was going!” she said, and we set off on our way together.

As we came to the confluence where Garth’s hallway meets the big common room with the piano in it, Garth was already being wheeled toward us. He became as animated as he could possibly be when he saw her. “There she is!” he crooned. They both sparkled extra brightly. They were Christmas. The nurse wheeled Garth to the piano and he and Maud touched hands and said their hellos. Garth still didn’t remember me, but I didn’t care. Garth was still happy to see me anyway and got down to playing some piano. Maud and I looked at each other and smiled. She would tease him a bit and they would crack up. I told them how Paul was doing and showed them pictures of his kids. Maud told a couple stories while Garth played a few Christmas songs. I don’t remember them now, just the feeling of them. My heart swelled as I noticed some of the other residents inching a little nearer to listen. Some just relaxed their heads a little and smiled. What power. What absolute, pure human reciprocal genius. He played with the gentle touch of snow falling on an animal’s fur. We were all so happy. Garth showed me how he could still stretch his hand wide and span way too many keys with it. I was sincerely impressed. “You gotta keep ahead of the competition!” he announced, “You gotta stay limber!” and he and Maud and I cracked up. Garth played me “Sweet Lorraine” and even sang a bit of it. “I just found joy… I’m as happy as a baby boy…” I had to hide that I was crying a tiny bit. What a perfect Christmas. Soon it was time to go and I offered to push Maud in her chair back to her room down in the next wing. We chatted a bit about how she had ended up in there too, her health situation, etc. I gave her my number and told her to call me should she ever need anything. It really was so nice to see her again, and I know she was the reason for Garth’s uptick in energy and comfort. They were each other’s everything. Just shy of two months later Maud was gone. I was so shocked. She was quite a bit younger than Garth, and she had looked so healthy and happy… My heart broke for them both. Now here in 2025 I’m surprised Garth went on as long as he did without her. He lasted because he still had music and that would have made Maud very happy. I honor you, Maud Hudson. 

And here on Tuesday, February 4th, on what would have been my friend Diane’s birthday, I honor my two Canadian friends who made the perfect circuit without ever meeting one another, living just one county apart in upstate New York. Diane Butler and Garth Hudson, two beautiful souls brought into my life by the world’s greatest gift; music.