As many people have found, it doesn't take very long for me to steer any and all conversations towards the topic of OURS, which is, in my (not-so) humble opinion, the best band nobody's ever heard. Frontman Jimmy Gnecco has a falsetto that might just give Satan the chills. Not to mention a supernatural stage presence that makes you wonder how the hell everyone in the world doesn't know his name. The band is, in two words, 'criminally underdiscovered.'
It was the fall of 2001 when I accidentally encountered OURS. I had just moved to San Francisco for grad school and ventured to see Pete Yorn at Bottom of the Hill. But the opening act, it turns out, was mucho mas impressive. By the end of, oh say... the first chorus, I was reeling with the thought, "Pete who?" I had never seen or heard anything like Jimmy Gnecco in my life. Not on an album. And certainly not live on stage. Not ever. It was like the opening scene in "Almost Famous" when the big sister kicks down her albums to the film's impressionable hero. It was nothing short of a revelation. I remember thinking, "I need to know him." I always think that when someone inspires me. And I usually try inventing myself into their lives, hoping their greatness will just, I don't know, rub off on me?
Take for instance, the time I met David Sedaris at a book signing...
"David! You can't believe how happy I am to meet you!!! You're such an inspiration. I write stories about myself too! I just published one in JANE about bedwetting." He nodded slowly, suspiciously. I passed him a bottle of Roshambo zinfandel and a story I wrote about its owner (and my now-ex-girlfriend) Naomi Brilliant for NYLON magazine, hoping, I don't know, to be memorable? And then I pitched him, "Say, I would really love to talk to you." His face tightened, as if bracing for a morning breath kiss. He knew what was coming. "Do you think we can hang out after your reading?" Right. As if I was the only genius who cooked up that plan. Yup, just me and David Sedaris kicking back cold ones. "Maaaaybe," he winced, "for like... a minute."
Fortunately, Jimmy was more receptive to me.
When I met him afterwards and expressed my mad crazy enthusiasm, he was kind enough to offer a ticket to the following night's show. This was their first tour in support of "Distorted Lullibies," an album which I would come to listen to compulsively - which is to say that for a full month it was on repeat. All day. Every day. When I fell asleep and, of course, when I woke up. And naturally, every time OURS came to San Fran over the years, I made it a point to catch them. After one show at Bimbo's 365, I mentioned to Jimmy that I played didgeridoo and thought it would work great with their sound. He said something safe along the lines of, "I'll keep that in mind." I didn't think anything would ever come of it.
During OURS' next tour, in the spring of '03, I invited him out after a show and, much to my surprise, he said "Sure." All I could think was, "pinch me!" It was the start of an unexpected friendship, and one that really flowered when he called me a few years later to ask if I wanted to record didgeridoo on the band's new album - the Rick Rubin-produced masterpiece, "Mercy: Dancing at the Death of an Imaginary Enemy." Needless to say, my didgeridoo schedule was pretty wide open at the time.
Notwithstanding the "pinch me" experiences - like touring with Marilyn Manson or headlining the Bowery Ballroom with 25 of my East Coast friends and family in the crowd - he's the kind of friend who will do anything for anyone, and has, at my lowest points, helped steer me away from the darkest corners of my mind. In both his music (and requisite knack for writing sweeping songs of struggle and freedom) and in our conversations. Simply stated, he's one of the good guys. A dedicated musician, a dedicated great father. Someone you just want to root for.
I suppose I'm posting this because a) I'm working through a bad bout of writer's block or brain freeze at the moment, and b) because, at risk of sounding pretentious, I think it's important to share the things that flip our worlds and ricochet through our hearts. A lot of storytelling has to do with weeding out the banal, the plain mundane, and finding that which glints in the rough.
Please watch this music video and check out OURS' intentionally raw website. (It's all about the music for Jimmy... not scottkeneally.com style self-promotion =) Find the song, "Ran Away to Tell the World." My mother loves it. And so does Justice, my five-year-old-sorta-stepson from my last relationship. (In fact, he's taken to singing the hook from his car seat on the way to kindergarten. ) It's a song for YOU and me... and everyone we know. It's a song for the ages. Listen to it with your eyes closed... and then run away to tell the world about Jimmy Gnecco of OURS.
posted by Scott Keneally @ 1:16 PM