Photo by Tim Knight.

In Memorium - John Fahey (1939-2001)

It's difficult to write a eulogy about someone I didn't know. I did meet John Fahey once, at last year's Transmissions festival. I had just finished reading his book, How Bluegrass Destroyed My Life, and his stature and personality intimidated me. I wanted to talk to him just to have the experience, and I'm certainly glad that I did. However, those five minutes hardly qualify as "knowing" him; I really only knew him through his music and writing.

Fahey was a musician who I deeply admired and respected, and his music seemed to evolve every time I listened to it. I've only heard a handful of his many records, but they've left quite an impact on me. From The Yellow Princess (a wonderful moody journey through Fahey's world) to even Georgia Stomps, Atlanta Struts (which still mesmerizes me through the beauty his electric guitar has), his music echoes a disappearing landscape of American pastoral music.

The pinnacle of Fahey's work (that I have heard, at least) is 1971's America. I had heard a lot of his more recent, avant-leaning output and his early more blues-oriented records before America, but nothing quite prepared me for it. My friend Doug found the record and lent it to me. It's bizarre, iconographic drawings were fascinating, as were the liner notes.

The first time I listened to America, I loved the way it sounded; the lush acoustic guitar created beds of melody and a delicate sense of dynamics. However, the full effect of the record didn't hit me until a few weeks later, when I listened to a dub of it while driving across Pennsylvania. As I passed the rolling hills and small towns, America was the perfect soundtrack to America's greatness. And as I passed huge shopping centers, Wal-Marts, and sport utility vehicles, the desolation and sorrow in the music spoke to me.

This plurality is evident in much of Fahey's music, and it's one of the reasons that his records prove to be so rewarding. His exuberant personality was part of his allure; from the hilarious anecdotes to his own strange essays, Fahey carved himself out to be a legendary figure. It's because of this personality that we have lost not just another great musician, but a true cultural treasure.