(Cleveland, 1996)
Twenty years ago today I met Gavin Friday for the first time. It was outside the Roxy club in Amsterdam. He was slightly overdressed considering the sveltering heat that afternoon, a little shorter than expected and completely charming. He let me in to watch him soundcheck for his show that night. I love watching musicians practice their craft and shape their show and no one’s more driven and meticulous than Gav.
I have lost count of how many times I’ve watched him soundcheck since then, how many drinks we’ve had and ciggies shared, how many afternoon chats over cups of cappuccino. There have been dozens of postcards, letters and faxes, a couple of hundred phone calls and e-mails, a thousand or more text messages. And art. The songs we love, the albums treasured, the films we’ve seen. It’s what we love to share. And if there’s one thing I’ve learnt, if you want to know Gavin, you listen to the songs he recommends. They tell you everything he doesn’t say.
I love being able to see the world through his eyes, to learn through someone who ’sees things differently’. The people he meets, the company he keeps, his ridiculously famous friends… he always has a story to tell. He is the most contrary, argumentative man you’ll ever meet and he’s taught this conflict-avoider to enjoy his verbal fireworks.
In return, I offer unwavering loyalty, a one-woman-PR-campaign, a familiar face in unfamiliar places, honest and informed feedback, my web-related skills, a 24/7 help desk, a personal Googlist and occasional snarky sideline commenter.
It is rare for artists and fans to connect and Gavin is a notoriously private man. Although I have been working with him since forever, and I ‘get’ where he’s coming from instinctively, it took fifteen years for me to think of him as a ‘friend’. But in the last five years I think we’ve finally got the measure of each other.
I can’t wait to see what the next twenty years will bring us.
