UPDATE, 11:30AM: Tonight’s benefit has been postponed due to the snow storm. We’ll keep you updated on its rescheduling.
Noah Shussett remembers where he was when he first heard the S/T record from The Points and wishes, and FUCKING wishes he could make the memorial show tonight.
THE DAY THAT COBRUHH DIED WAS AN ODD ONE, A LONG ONE FOR ME PERSONALLY AS IT STARTED EARLIER THAN I PREFER AROUND 9 AM ON A STUNNING CRYSTAL CLEAR SEVENTY DEGREE SAN FRANCISCO DAY. ODD, I KNOW. WITH REST NEARLY HERE AND TIME FOR REFLECTION FINALLY PERMITTED I WILL SAY WHILE IT WAS ODD IT WAS INDEED TRAVIS JACKSON’S DAY.
NOT TO MARTYR HIM (ALTHOUGH NO ONE COULD POSSIBLY ARGUE HIS STATUS AS A LEGEND AT THIS POINT), OR TO LIMIT IT TO HIS PROWESS ON THE DRUMS (DESCRIBED QUITE LATE ON THE DAY OF HIS DEMISE AS BY THE WASHINGTON POST, APTLY, PUMMELING), OR TO FRONT LIKE I COULD EVEN WRAP MY FUCKING HEAD AROUND IT WHEN I FIRST HEARD. TRAVIS WAS THE REAL THING AND HE WAS A GOOD EGG TO BOOT.
HE WAS THE ONE WHO ALWAYS MADE EYE CONTACT WITH YOU WHEN HE SPOKE WITH YOU THE SPLASH OF HIS BEER UPON YOU MORE WELCOMING THAN ANY OTHERS. ONCE SOAKED BY THE CHIEFTAN YOU ARE IN THE TRIBE. NEVER FAILED CAUSE DUDE WAS ALWAYS AT THE SHOW. FOR THOSE OF YOU, ME, US, WHO ARE STILL TO THIS DAY STUCK IN THE POINTS STATE OF MIND, TOTALLY OUT TO LUNCH, COMPLETELY FUCKING LOST WITHOUT THOSE TAPES, ADMIT IT, YOU THOUGHT IT WOULD BE GEO. YOU HOPED IN A WAY. WHICH IS FUCKED. BUT BECAUSE IT WAS TRAVIS THE HELPER, THE FRIEND TO ALL BANDS, THE FOUNDER, THE HUSBAND, THE FATHER, THE BAT SIGNAL WENT OUT WITH A STRENGTH AND INTENSITY THAT ROUSED THE BASEMENT SUPERHEROES FROM THEIR SLUMBER WITH TEARS IN THEIR FUCKING STOMACHS. BECAUSE IT WAS TRAVIS YOU ALMOST SPOKE ON THE PHONE WITH TENNENT MCCABE (MAYBE, BABY, BAD VIBES) ACROSS THE BAY IN OAKLAND, YOU FELT OBLIGATED TO BREAK THE NEWS–OR AT LEAST TRY TO–TO TIM BROWN (NOISE VENDORS) IN MARYLAND, TRAVIS CHAMBERS (NOISE VENDORS) IN THE DISTRICT, IT FELT GOOD TO BE ON THE HORN WITH MITCHELL WEST (NEW ROCK CHURCH OF FIRE) EVEN IF IT HURT TO ASK HIM FOR THE DETAILS AND IT HURT EVEN MORE WHEN HE WAS STRONG ENOUGH TO DO SO, YOU TALK TO DANNY DARKO (THE POINTS, REAL DIAMONDS) ON THE INTERNET, YOU KNEW THAT FORREST HAINLINE THE IV (PONDEROSIS, BANDITOS) WOULD CALL YOU BACK IMMEDIATELY ONCE HE COULD STEP OUTSIDE FROM HIS JOB OF TEACHING MUSIC TO KIDS. THAT IS WHY IT WAS THAT DAY, HIS, HIS INFLUENCE ON THE SCENE. HE CARED MORE THAN YOU, HE WITHOUT QUESTION ROCKED FUCKING HARDER THAN YOU, EMBARRASSING YOUR FAVORITE DRUMMER FOR YEARS. AND IF HE BANGED ON DRUMS IN YOUR BASEMENT IT WOULD MAKE TOTAL FUCKING SENSE TO YOU THAT IT IS APPALLING THAT IT TOOK THE WASHINGTON POST ALL DAY TO COVER IT. THEY PROBABLY NEEDED TO CONFIRM THE DETAILS OR WHATEVER BUSINESS TERMS THEY USE FOR THAT SHIT. I’M SORRY. IT’S RAW STILL; MY MAN HAS A FAMILY. ROCK N’ ROLL NO RULES. ON THE DAY SIR WINDIAN HIMSELF DIED YOU HELD IT TOGETHER, YOU WANTED TO CRY WHILE PLAYING RECORDS, WHILE TELLING HIS STORY TO A FRIEND, BUT YOU DIDN’T BECAUSE WHILE THERE ARE IN FACT NO RULES, THAT’S NOT WHAT WE DO. YET TEAR SHEDDING WOULD HAVE BEEN APPROPRIATE AS TRAVIS WAS INDEED–AS THEY SAY–AS ROCK N ROLL AS THEY COME, HE WAS OF A DIFFERENT SORT. ALL THE BIT AS FIERCE–A STYLE OF LIFE LIVED IN ALL CAPS–HE APPLIED IT NOT JUST TO HIS MUSIC AND APPETITE FOR SHIT BEER–MAN IF YOU HAD A BACK YARD THAT NEEDED SAT IN AND TWENTY CANS OF THE CHEAP SHIT THAT NEEDED DRANK TRAVIS COULD HELP–HE WORKED HARD EARNING HIS WELL DESERVED REPUTATIONS, THE RESPECT HIS LABEL GARNERS. HE WAS TATTOOED AND FOCUSED AND WHEN HIS HAIR GOT TOO LONG HE WORE A GODDAMNED BARRETTE. HE CHEERED THE BUFFALO BILLS–PRO SPORTS LOVABLE LOSERS–FOR CHRISSAKES. THROUGH HIS EFFORTS HE BECAME WOVEN INTO THE LIVES OF DISTRICT RESIDENTS STRENGTHENING THE COMMUNITY AND WHAT MAKES DC GREAT. HE BECAME THE FABRIC OF LIFE. THE WHAT MAKES YOU TOLERATE THOSE STIFFS IN THEIR SUITS, MADE GETTING OUT OF BED TO SLOP THROUGH THAT HEAT TO THE BULLSHIT CALLED A JOB WORTH IT; THERE WAS A SHOW THAT NIGHT. HE WAS NO STAR; WE ARE TALKING ALLEYS AND ABANDONED BUILDINGS HERE. HE WAS A WORKHORSE COVERED IN TOILET PAPER PLAYING TO TWENTY HEADS. SHIT, I’M NOT EVEN EXACTLY SURE WHY I’M WRITING THIS. TRAVIS AND I WERE NOT THE CLOSEST OF FRIENDS. THERE ARE UNDOUBTEDLY MORE QUALIFIED HANDS TO HOLD THIS PEN. BUT I DON’T RUN MY LIFE, THIS PEN DOES AND MY LIFE BEARS HIS FINGERPRINT. IF THERE WERE COBRUHH AMOUNTS OF SHIT BEER I’D MAKE MORE SENSE, HAVE LESS TO SAY, SPEAK MORE ELOQUENTLY YET INEVITABLY WHILE YELLING. HE WAS NO SAINT, HE WAS NOT OF REPROACH WHICH MAKES SENSE SINCE WHAT THE MAN CREATED, TIMELESS AND CHERISHED BY A CERTAIN WALK OF LIFE, MADE YOU FORGET THAT YOU WERE BORN TO LOSE; WE WILL NEVER OWN ANYTHING, BUT WHAT WE HAD WAS SACRED. WHEREVER YOU ARE FRIEND, WE ALL HOPE, WHOMEVER YOU ARE WITH, MAY THEY KNOW HOW FUCKING LUCKY THEY ARE.
Information on tonight’s Benefit Concert for the Travis Jackson Memorial Fund featuring Thee Lolitas and End Crimes at the Black Cat can be found here.
