jay bennett

Musician Jay Bennett died yesterday. Fans of the Wilco albums Being There; Summerteeth; Yankee Hotel Foxtrot; and the Wilco/Billy Bragg Woody Guthrie-inspired Mermaid Avenue and Mermaid Avenue, Volume 2 were not familiar with Bennett's work -- they were mesmerized. A Ghost is Born, Wilco's first album post-Bennett, survived largely on the fumes of Bennett's contributions, and Ghost is, in my opinion, the last compelling work the band has produced. (I can't speak to Wilco (The Album), haven't heard it.)

Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy issued the following statement regarding Bennett's premature passing: "We are all deeply saddened by this tragedy. We will miss Jay as we remember him -- as a truly unique and gifted human being and one who made welcome and significant contributions to the band's songs and evolution. Our thoughts go out to his family and friends in this very difficult time."



The blogosphere is abuzz with this sad news, and there are practically countless comments from fans, so I don't think I can add anything here that hasn't been expressed over the last twenty-four hours. However, I'll offer this:

I was late to the party when I purchased from TD's CDs and LPs Summerteeth in the fall of 1999. I'll never forget what the late Tom Donahue rhetorically asked me as he rang up my purchase: "A little late for Summerteeth, isn't it?" Regardless of the season, the album impacted my life and was my soundtrack that autumn. Every time I play the album today I think of where I was that fall: new to Bloomington, I lived with Eric, D and JRo at 924 S Dunn St... bong hits and a few acid trips... it was a special time. And this is the magic of music; sounds are heard, deeply buried memories are uprooted, and emotions -- feelings you forgot long ago -- tingle your senses, and it's as if you are experiencing those memories for the first time.

The musicians who create the soundtracks for our lives are strangers. We rarely, if ever, meet the people who possess the powers to move us, shake us. But these strangers, because of the contributions they make to our shared existence, are unusually close to us, and the strangers that have passed on haven't left us; their sounds remain forever alive. Every time you hear "that song," their ghosts stir anew.

xx