Monday, December 19, 2011

happy birthday

In tribute to my hero, Kevin Devine, and in honor of his birthday today, I thought I'd do something different - this is part of a blog series I wrote in July/August leading up to my 30th birthday called ‘30 ‘til 30’, dedicating an entry a day to someone who’d impacted my life.



I wrestled for a long time with whether or not I wanted to include Kevin Devine on this list. It seemed like somewhat of a cop-out - how could I include a singer over people who I have known for years?


And then I realized that I couldn’t not include Kevin Devine on this list. Because I can’t think of someone else who has touched my life for the past ten years more than Kevin Devine has.


When I came back to school for my senior year at NYU, Melanie could not shut up about this band she’d discovered over the summer - Miracle of 86. Having grown to realize that I loved a lot of Melanie’s favorite bands during the prior year and that I’d probably enjoy them too, I agreed to go with her to see them when they played a show at Tribeca Rock Club in New York. I remember waiting hours for them to go on - they were like the sixth band to play, and didn’t go on ‘til close to midnight, and I was tired and annoyed, but then they started, and I was just blown away. I remember leaving and actually being MAD that I hadn’t discovered them first - they were such a me band.


The next day, I visited Immigrant Sun’s website and purchased the “Devine Miracle Deal” - Miracle of 86’s two albums, along with the debut solo album of their lead singer, Kevin Devine. If Miracle of 86 was a “me” band, then Kevin Devine was … I don’t know how to even explain it. I remember the first time I listened to his album - I was on the bus coming from an NYU hockey game against Penn State, heading back to the hotel, and if the band had blown me away, the solo album just spoke to me in a way I wasn’t expecting. I remember sitting on the bus, in the dark, listening to “Protest Singer” with tears running down my face, and just thinking that he was brilliant.

I met Kevin at a Miracle of 86 show that April - Melanie and I told him the story about how we’d broken a bed at a Holiday Inn jumping up and down singing along with “Fast Song” and he’d laughed and said “now that’s a real rock and roll story!” That was the last time I saw Miracle of 86 before they broke up, and as devastating as that was for me, it paved the way for an even more amazing solo career.


I saw Kevin perform a solo show for the first time at the beginning of the summer of 2003. There were maybe ten people there. Shannon, me, Kevin, his girlfriend, and a group of his friends. He kept joking about how he felt like he was playing a show in his basement for his friends and two people he didn’t know. He put on a fantastic show and my love for him was cemented.


Over the next eight years, I saw Kevin an additional twenty-one times . . . and counting. And somewhere along the way, Kevin changed from someone that I would go to see in concert sometimes to my absolute hero. Somewhere between his second album and his fifth, and everything in between, I realized that Kevin was legitimately brilliant. Brilliant.


The summer of 2007, the most amazing thing that ever could have happened musically for me happened - Kevin Devine went on tour with Jesse Lacey. A brilliant solo tour with my two absolute favorite musicians - playing each others songs and playing their own stuff. I went with Liz up to Albany to catch them and hung around afterwards in the rain for over an hour afterwards. Jesse wasn’t the least bit social, but Kevin was kind and talkative and so appreciative of the support.



I asked him if he ever played Miracle of 86 songs anymore, and he told me about how the breakup hadn’t been all that amicable, but that he would from time to time play their songs, and that he’d play one of their songs the next time he did a show in New York.


Two weeks later, Kevin played a Rocks Off concert cruise. I went with Craig, and we were standing around waiting for the show to start, when all of a sudden Kevin came walking by. I pointed him out to Craig and then Kevin and I made eye contact. I don’t know if it was because it was just a couple weeks earlier that I’d last seen him or what, but he came IMMEDIATELY over to me, gave me an enthusiastic hello, and a big hug. He introduced himself to Craig and said how cool it was to be on a show on a boat “with so many people I know here!” I was so starstruck. I asked him if he would play a Miracle of 86 song for me and he was like “done.” Just like that, “Done.” And he did. And it was amazing.


From that point on, every time I saw Kevin after that, his face would light up with recognition. I got a picture with him again one more time - at Nassau Coliseum in 2009:



He’d come a long way since the Mercury Lounge back in 2003. He played a show at Brooklyn Bowl in January 2010, and my brother and I were eating dinner beforehand, and he made a point to come over to me and say hello and give me a hug - my brother kept calling him “my friend” all night. I’ve seen him a number of times since then, but the last time I spoke to him was in June of 2010 - he was selling his own merchandise after opening for Thrice at Irving Plaza, and he gave me a big hug across the merchandise table.


Kevin’s sixth album, Between the Concrete and the Clouds, will be released on September 13, and after eight years, his career has taken off. His shows sell out now, and it’s been over a year since I was last able to talk to him before or after a performance. There’s nobody more deserving of any success he gets. Kevin taught me that although all musicians praise their fans and say they wouldn’t be anything without them, some of those musicians are willing to show it. For all the smiles and hellos and hugs, I know that Kevin has no idea what my name is, but it doesn’t matter. He has been the most consistent guy in my life since college. He is brilliant. He is my hero. And my life would not be the same without him.

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