Empty garden

My far too hastily written appreciation of John Peel is in today's Washington Post.

My buddy Justine emailed today to point out that Peel was instrumental in a good number of our mutual relationships, not least of which is the one I share with my wife and child. But his influence was always indirect--that was the man's genius. He was like the secret DNA of indie rock, facilitating connections between musicians, fans and friends. (The whole story's too long and too boring unless you really, really care about the tiny point where the Dust Devils, the Wedding Present, and the Arlington, Va., and Leeds, England, indie scenes meet.)

One last story, then I think I'll let the subject rest. Every year in the U.K., there is (or used to be?) a CMJ-like festival called Sound City. One year Leeds hosted the event, so Justine, who ran the Hemiola label, along with my friends Nicola and Stewart, who used to run 555 Records together, put on a series of indie shows that weren't a part of the fest. One of the acts, Groop Dogdrill, were something of a buzz band and a lot of industry people showed up to see them, including former Undertones singer Feargal Sharkey, then an A&R rep for EastWest/Atlantic. He got into an argument with Justine at the door because he didn't want to pay the £2 cover charge (apparently he was too important to do so). I think I may have offered to pay it for him.

Peel came every night, paid his cover, stood in the back and watched every band. Punk freaking rock, man.