Oh man. While I'm pretty buzzed off the H's (Hendricks and Hennessey VSOP) and stunned at the US' phenomenal collapse in the last 4 minutes of the 3rd period in what looked like a sure hallmark IIHF WJC win, let me comment on Gregory Slay's passing.
I know I'm probably going to get slagged for this, but I really liked Remy Zero when they came out. That first album was all kinds of astronomical and a local radio station in Richmond put together a "Birthday Bash" where they blocked a couple of streets in Shockoe Bottom and brought like 12 bands to town for $5. Most were terrible: Cake, Sugarcult, etc. But 3 were really awesome: Abandoned Pools, Pete Yorn, and Remy Zero. It was the one time I got to see Remy Zero.
I must say, I was disappointed. I have never seen a band with such obvious talent among all the members unable to find a sustainable dynamic. It was like a classic middleweight fight, with every member punching and counter-punching, trying to put themself forward as the de facto frontman, wanting their skills to shine through, to be a sonic Town on a Hill we'd all look up to, but inevitably unable to knock the other members out of the occasion. As sport, it would've been beautiful, but as a group performance it was as embarrassing as it was unyielding.
And ultimately, that's the elements that drove Remy Zero apart relatively young. Had the members simply embraced an insouciance to individual accolade, they could've left their mark, but as it stands, they reside as fickle gossamer in the back of my Julian brain. Whenever I think of Remy Zero, I think of Woody Allen's character's favorite joke from Annie Hall about the two women at the restaurant where the one comments about how bad the food was and the other says, "Oh, I know... and what small portions." Remy Zero was that restaurant... what terrible discord, what shallow selfishness ripped them to shreds, and yet what small portions they left behind. What a loss. What a pointless, pointless loss.
-julian
