(Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of The Augusta Press.)
Remembering Paul Marsh
I did not know Paul Marsh, the Augusta-area DJ who performed under the moniker DJ Codec, as well as I would have liked. But as news of his death spread across Augusta last weekend, I discovered that I liked what I knew. Here are the facts, as I see them. Paul was a champion, defender and feral fan of every stripe of outsider. Musical rebels and artistic experimenters. Nightlife trailblazers and introverts aching to be part of the party. He was both a calming voice and a volume-to-10 instigator. He was a creator and patron. He approached projects with a certain degree of gravitas and focus – but also with a warm smile.
I always thought Paul, who carefully crafted an image – and in doing so cornered the artificial flower market – while remaining genuine and true to himself, had it figured out. He was one of the very few people I have ever known that pulled off the hat trick of maintaining his edge while engendering love and respect from all quarters. It was an amazing mash-up, one we are not likely to see again any time soon.
So now what? Paul, suddenly and tragically, is gone. There is a hole in Augusta’s creative community. It’s a wound still fresh and raw and, yes, it will hurt for a long time. But I suspect, bearing in mind that I did not know Paul as well as I would have liked, an extended period of maudlin introspection is not the kind of legacy he would have liked to leave. So while yes, the void his absence leaves will certainly begat a period of mourning amongst the many that considered him a friend and compatriot, let us also ensure that the spirit with which he approached life continues to inform the creative community he so clearly loved.
Here’s what I suggest. Encourage an artist unsure of their creative worth. Paul believed there was worth in the creative process as well as the final product. Treat someone who might otherwise feel marginalized with respect. Paul exhibited seemingly endless empathy in every aspect of his life. Cultivate kindness. Play some music. Play some more music, this time a little louder. Be the last to leave the party or, at very least, be the person that ensures the party lasts until they leave. Introduce someone to a new idea.
Wear a flower.
Paul Marsh has left us, but that doesn’t need to mean he is gone. In every action we take, we can remember a man who, by simply living a life looking outside the box, made his community stronger, better and infinitely more creative.
Thank you, Paul.
Sticking with our Principles
I’ve seen a lot of bands play the Arts In the Heart of Augusta Festival, and most of them entertain. A few have also engaged. But the opportunity to see an act, particularly a young and relatively unknown act, ignite the crowd at Augusta’s ever-expanding annual event is something rare and worthy of note.
Here’s the scene. It’s early Saturday evening and while the daylight is getting golden, the bands playing the Community Stage are still very much playing Sunlight Sonatas. Not ideal. My daughter and I are sticking around because she has heard of – although perhaps not heard – a band sliding up the schedule.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Estimated Principles,” she answers.
“That is a terrible name,” I reply. In fact, I will ask her to repeat the name no less than three times, just to make sure I get it right. I need to get it right. I need to remember it.
Because Estimated Principles is a band I will remember for a long time.
Young, earnest and blessed with the sort of endless reserves that ensure a no-lag performance, Estimated Principles is a band that pulls from a variety of sources without ever feeling confused or derivative. It’s punk rock with power pop hooks. It’s a guitarist able to tear off an arena rock solo while the rhythm section shifts smoothly through time signatures. It’s a singer that feels both worldly beyond his years while singing about the youthful confusion that fuels the very best rock songs.
Look, I feel certain that many of the people that crowded the front of the stage and perhaps even those that began to wander in from Broad Street could be counted as existing fans, friends and neighbors. But not all of them. Those middle-aged men joyfully bouncing in the center aisle? They weren’t responding to someone they took algebra with. They found themselves infected, perhaps for the first time in a long time, by the power of a well-honed rock band.
I am not going to declare Estimated Principles the next big thing out of Augusta. I’ve been around bands long enough to know that talent, songs and a lively stage show are required for success, but do not necessarily ensure it. What I will say is this. Augusta has, for the first time in a long time, a fresh, young rock act. It would do fans who have longed for a return to loud guitars well to remember the name.
Estimated Principles.
BURIED TREASURE: The Lace – Benjamin Orr
Let me be clear on one thing. There is a certain 1980s production sound that, to this day, makes me cringe. Those middle tempo tunes with upfront synthesizers, treated drums and guitars buried under a fat blanket of studio trickery and electronica weren’t my thing then and my appreciation hasn’t increased in the years since. Sorry Mr. Mister, we are never going to be friends.
This is notable because many of those sins a present and accounted for on the late Benjamin Orr’s 1986 solo record ‘The Lace’. While there are certainly clear and present sonic signatures that can be attributed to his then day job band the Cars, the Lace sound is clearly that of an artist fishing for a hit. And while the single ‘Stay the Night’ saw some success, this record wasn’t the clean break from ‘Candy-O’ and ‘Heartbreak City’ Orr was clearly aiming for. And that’s a shame, because despite its now very dated sound, there are a lot of great songs on this record. It clearly demonstrates that not only was much of the Cars’ success attributable to Orr, but that given ample time and chances he might have broken out a la Phil Collins as a solo artist.
Sadly, Orr never released another solo effort and chances of building on the artistic success of both ‘The Lace” and his work with the Cars disappeared when he died, in 2001, of pancreatic cancer. This one is worth a spin, particularly for fans of that distinctive ‘80s sound.
