#amazingman

Last month (early June) I was having a conversation with Evan In regard to the changing musical world and where to take refuge while the overhead dimming light  is swaying back and forth. The last record was recorded and mixed at my studio and took imaginary years out of my imaginary future. Surely, it felt this way. Emotional upheaval having to be monitored by the sap of saddening feelings.

“I can’t do that again, not this next time, no way” I stated to Evan.

“What about making another record with Swift?” He quickly replied.

“ YES. YES. YES. I would LOVE nothing more.”

The plan had been (in our brains) set and we were determined to return to the land of Richard Swift to have him show us, yet again, his otherworldly hands of creative power.

June 19th - An announcement to “Friends of Swift” had been posted on his social medias that Swift had been admitted into the ICU in Tacoma, WA due to a life threatening illness and monies were being raised to help him and his family pay for the medical bills. I called Swift to see what was going on, to see if there was anything directly or indirectly I could do to help his family while he was in the hospital.

No answer.

The subsequent days I waited to hear back, to hear news, to know that everything was ok. Nothing.

No seeable progress. I hoped. I waited.

July 3rd - I woke up with a slue of text messages and emails asking if I had heard the news about Richard. As i read / re read / re read / re read them I didn’t believe them. I couldn’t believe them. They’re wrong. It’s wrong.  It’s true.

Dead.

At 41 years old Richard Swift had died. Shock isn’t the word. Sad isn’t either. Not sure how to properly put it into terms. I felt it (what a loss). I felt it largely (such a loss). The impact of his death just HIT.

It really hit.

Richard Swift and I didn’t have all too much contact after making From The Top of Willamette Mountain in 2011. I would see him when he came through town with different projects that he was involved with and would eat Thai food with him in Cottage Grove when passing through Oregon, always feeling emotionally close to him in those moments, albeit infrequent.  

And even though I didn’t talk to him on a very regular basis, this man, this wonderful person had the influential power of a comet crashing on me. His death not only came as unprecedented but as a catastrophic darkness. What a true loss. RIP Swift.

Rewind to summer of 2011.

Evan and I headed to Cottage Grove to start on “From The Top Of Willamette Mountain” being produced and made with Richard Swift. At this point I had made two other records and had a pretty good idea of how it would all go, at least that is what I thought.

The process of making a record with Richard Swift was nothing like making a record with anyone else. The way he approached music, creativity, people, life was something that I would forever try and emulate. During those 10 days of being in his studio, with him and his mind I was transformed, musically and creatively speaking. I have since those days looked at Swift as a role model of how to approach record making (amongst other things).

There was one morning where we were in National Freedom (Swift’s studio) and we were thumbing through his collection of LPs. I stumbled upon a record that appeared to have been made by someone using a collection of crayons or magic markers, drawing on a picture of Paul McCartney holding the horns of a ram. I picked up the record and asked what it was. Swift looked up at it and with amazement asked, “You haven’t heard RAM?”

He proceeded to take the record and put on “Heart of the Country”.

Every time I hear this song I think of the magic of Mr. Richard Swift, of his magical place and his wonderful energy.

I will miss the man.

Love you, Swift.

On you go, on we go.

The day Swift died I was reminded of all of the memories i had with him. The Heart of the Country experience stuck out and it led me to want to dedicate a version to him.  Amigo, Nate Pyfer joined me at my house and how i would think Swift would do it we set up one ribbon microphone and played the song live into the mic. Matt Eastin filmed it and put the whole idea together. 

This is to you, amigo.