Quiet Color

by inky jojo

It was an average night in the valley. I had spent the previous evening in downtown Burbank, if my memory serves me right, at a pool hall getting completely wasted and arguing with the bartender over my tab at the end of the night. I believe it was over the price of the Washington Apple shots, of which I personally must have consumed around seven and evidently had purchased, in all the enthusiasm, another fifteen or so. Now in Sherman Oaks with one of my best friends from New York, we were going out to celebrate my last evening in the godforsaken wasteland that comprises Los Angeles. I was heading back to New York City the next day and was looking for a proper send off. My friend took me to his local bar and I, having been there previously, knew there wasn’t going to be the sort of revelry I was interested in. Which is why when some strange woman told me ever so innocently that she had some acid back at her place, and would I like to go there with her right now, I immediately responded in the affirmative.

Artist: Joe Purdy Song: Can’t Get It Right Today

…
At some point during the trip, while laying in the dark next to each other, she began to play this amazing music. It was a singer–songwriter I had never heard of before. I was completely captured by the simple eloquent sounds emanating from the speaker box on her nightstand. We listened for hours in silence; the only interruptions were convoluted questions that would fall out of my mouth about the artist and her equally futile attempts to answer. When it was time for me to go I swore I would never forget. . .damn. . . what was his name?

I had no clue what the girls name was let alone her number to ask who we were listening to. Oh well, finish packing, get in the truck and drive east. Fast forward a year or so, back in California, this time in the Bay at my parent’s house for a two week visit. I’m watching TV and a KIA commercial comes on that sends my head spinning. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Not only was it the guy I was listening to with that chick, but it was my favorite song. I had always felt like Al Bundy trying to find out the name of the song on the radio. Hmm hhhmm himmm. Straight to Google and within a minute or so I had the answer. Joe Purdy. Who’s Joe Purdy? Well, according to his website, it turns out “Joe is an independent musician. His records are self-released and he likes it that way.” According to this author, who had the pleasure of seeing his recent show at the Bell House in Park Slope, he is also a really nice individual. Watching him patiently interact with all the people who wanted a piece of him after the show, myself and my photographer included, was a clinic in graciousness that even Miss Manners would take note of. In all honesty even if he had been a jerk, I’d still rock his tunes. Good music is good music.

As I made my trek from Hope Street to the Slope for the show I couldn’t help but reminisce about the beautiful girl who introduced me to Joe’s music so long ago during an acid trip. Together we lived a thousand lifetimes in the span of a few hours.  Felt the agony and joy of romance in bloom and the sorrow and anguish of a dream in ruins. I never heard from her again and somehow that seems so fitting. Almost like a song Joe might write. It is so unfair to compare one artist to another so I wont do that here, but when I hear his music I picture a jug of whiskey, a rocking chair, an old wooden porch and miles of open country in front of me. Sometimes, depending on the song, there’s a woman with me, but mostly just the memories of someone who’s no longer there. Each of his albums is like reading a novel, a complete story unto itself. So personal and relatable, yet detached and distant. The kind of music you play when you feel there’s no one on this planet that gets it, and perfect for when you find the one person who does.

Accompanying me to the show were two women of distinct mindsets. One had, only the previous week, been dumped by her boyfriend and the other had, only the previous week, met the man who could quite possibly the man of her dreams. Their reactions were worlds apart. One found the music sad and melancholy, and she was right. She had to step out for a bit so as not to become overwhelmed, the music was so moving. The other heard the joy in each note, even in the sad songs. She felt the romance and longing for love in the sounds from the stage. She nestled in her man’s arms and smiled the smile of a million lovers, and she was right.

It stands to follow that Mr. Purdy has quite a following of intensely loyal fans. Over the course of the last few years his music has been featured on shows such as Greys Anatomy, Lost and House. Currently on tour with a new album, Last clock on the Wall, he has been jumping all across North America. In the past he has recorded albums in London and Paris, but at the show I attended he said, “I like coming to Brooklyn. You think you’re cool and then you come to Brooklyn and find out you’re really not that cool.”