I read that Van Conner died today. It’s not the earth-shaking news some music-related deaths have had on me, like Lemmy or Chris Cornell or Taylor Hawkins, but it’s a reminder that the artists I enjoy and admire are both mortal and aging. Just like me. There is a sense of dread when I think about this. Their demise. My demise. And what we leave behind.
There will, hopefully, be a lot of remembrances of Van Conner and his musical contributions over the next few days. So, instead of adding to that pile with a not-very-thorough accounting of favorite songs and bass riffs and side projects, I just want to share a simple story.
In 1991 or ’92, the Screaming Trees came through Tallahassee. They played a show at The Moon, with local legends Gruel opening. It was a free show for FSU students, and part of the promotion included doing a radio interview at the college station, WVFS. I had been volunteering as a DJ there for a while, but I wasn’t scheduled to be on air that day. I had to work. A job that paid me. As a dishwasher.
So, I was on my way there instead of the studio, in my girlfriend’s large, old, beige Cadillac. I didn’t have a car at the time, and this borrowed boat was my only real transportation. As I sat at an intersection, waiting for a light to change (I vividly remember it was at Macomb and Pensacola, for any Capitol City denizens reading along), a car I recognized crossed in front of me. It was my friend Rob. But more importantly, hanging halfway out the passenger-side window was my other friend Kevin. Now, the two of them had been in groundbreaking Tallahassee bands together for years. Oxenchunk. Blackberry Ripper. Waisting House.
But in that moment, none of that mattered. Right then, they were fans. Fans of the Screaming Trees. And in the back seat of Rob’s car at that very moment was none other than Van Conner. Rob and Kevin were shepherding him to the station for the interview. And how do I know it was Van Conner in the back seat? Because as Kevin was hanging half out the passenger-side window, his arms were flailing, pointing toward the back seat, and to me at the intersection, and back toward the back seat as he shouted, “Van Conner! Van Conner!”
Flower
18 January 2023
Van life.
I read that Van Conner died today. It’s not the earth-shaking news some music-related deaths have had on me, like Lemmy or Chris Cornell or Taylor Hawkins, but it’s a reminder that the artists I enjoy and admire are both mortal and aging. Just like me. There is a sense of dread when I think about this. Their demise. My demise. And what we leave behind.
There will, hopefully, be a lot of remembrances of Van Conner and his musical contributions over the next few days. So, instead of adding to that pile with a not-very-thorough accounting of favorite songs and bass riffs and side projects, I just want to share a simple story.
In 1991 or ’92, the Screaming Trees came through Tallahassee. They played a show at The Moon, with local legends Gruel opening. It was a free show for FSU students, and part of the promotion included doing a radio interview at the college station, WVFS. I had been volunteering as a DJ there for a while, but I wasn’t scheduled to be on air that day. I had to work. A job that paid me. As a dishwasher.
So, I was on my way there instead of the studio, in my girlfriend’s large, old, beige Cadillac. I didn’t have a car at the time, and this borrowed boat was my only real transportation. As I sat at an intersection, waiting for a light to change (I vividly remember it was at Macomb and Pensacola, for any Capitol City denizens reading along), a car I recognized crossed in front of me. It was my friend Rob. But more importantly, hanging halfway out the passenger-side window was my other friend Kevin. Now, the two of them had been in groundbreaking Tallahassee bands together for years. Oxenchunk. Blackberry Ripper. Waisting House.
But in that moment, none of that mattered. Right then, they were fans. Fans of the Screaming Trees. And in the back seat of Rob’s car at that very moment was none other than Van Conner. Rob and Kevin were shepherding him to the station for the interview. And how do I know it was Van Conner in the back seat? Because as Kevin was hanging half out the passenger-side window, his arms were flailing, pointing toward the back seat, and to me at the intersection, and back toward the back seat as he shouted, “Van Conner! Van Conner!”
He was very excited to announce to anyone within earshot that he was sitting in the same car as the bass player for the Screaming Trees! To this day — obviously — I think about that moment and smile. Like I am tonight. As I listen to Buzz Factory and SP48 of the Sub Pop Singles Club and the Solomon Grundy “Spirit of the Radio” 7-inch.
See you tomorrow?