It Ain't Gonna Save Me: Jay Reatard Tribute

“Most of the time, what’s wrong with you is more interesting that what’s right. What’s right with you is fucking boring.” - Jay Reatard (in an interview with The Village Voice)



The death of Jay Reatard (born Jimmy Lee Lindsey, Jr.) has affected me greatly. I responded to his music immediately upon first listen. It epitomized the essence of Punk and even Rock in general. Jay was the first to admit that he could barely play his guitar, but it didn't stop him. From an early age (he released his first album at 15) the music poured from him and he kept playing and recording until he died.

He managed to remain completely real and raw and true to who he was, while making this massively accessible garage punk music with wonderful melody and even a catchy pop essence. Leave it to the guy who could give a shit what people think to ride the thin line of artistry and public appeal in such an effortless and uncompromising fashion.

The death of Jay Reatard also pisses me off because it's another case of not fully appreciating something/one until it's too late. I have mixed feelings about this. Sure, his death will bring new ears to his music and hopefully lots of them, but at the same time why does someone have to die before they are truly appreciated? What is it about a career/life/body-of-work cut short that makes their work suddenly important and craved?

Fuck it. I'm over-thinking this shit.

Whatever else I could say would be an understatement. So let me just share a few things that might paint a better picture.

Here's another quote from Village Voice. This one is from King Khan, recounting a pretty defining story about Jay:

KK: Or here's the best Jay story. When he was 17, he played at a mechanic's garage. This guy that was a fan of the Reatards [Jay's former band] set up a show in some garage. So while the show was going on, Jay was getting really crazy. While he was playing, he got naked and he opened up a can of motor oil and dumped it all over his head and was slipping and sliding everywhere. And then some smart-ass in the audience just rolled up a can of something on stage--it was all dirty, so he didn't know what it was. Jay grabbed it and opened it up and sprayed it on his dick. Within 10 seconds he started screaming in agony on the floor in the fetal position--"Ahhhhh!"--while covered in oil. Then he grabbed the can and scrapped the dirt off from it--it was EASY-OFF oven cleaner. He got taken to the hospital. Imagine the doctor's face when a 17-year-old Jay Reatard shows up covered in motor oil with two layers of the skin on his penis burnt off. That's how punk his love is.

Here's some wonderfully done film shorts: