Remembering Will

I first met Will Owsley in 1999. He came to Portland on tour with Fountains of Wayne, and was being interviewed on my favorite radio station. I called in to ask a question after the interview was over, and was surprised that he was still there answering questions directly. He invited me down to the show, and my immediate reaction was (laughably unfiltered) "Oh, but I didn't get any sleep last night." Then I began to babble... It's a week night, I have to work, Dan had been out of town and I was exhausted from sleepless nights. Owsley insisted though... "Give me your name, I'm putting you on the list" then I could almost hear him lean forward, and in a quiet tone (as if he were whispering to me directly, not talking into a microphone on the radio) "... just stay for my set then go home and sleep, you can be in bed by 10:30, I promise."

Though they had been booked at a small venue on a Wednesday night, Owsley played that show like it was a sold out stadium. Amazing energy, amazing talent... I had loved his music beforehand, but now was undeniably addicted.

Over the course of the next year I joined his fan group online, made friends, and conversed heavily with fellow fans and his most amazing brother, Bud. We were all greatly anticipating the break out of his album and upcoming headlining tour. It was during this exciting time that Dan and I had moved to Santa Cruz, and as the tour dates for Owsley popped up around the state, I made plans to hit as many shows as possible.

The next opportunity to see Will was a comedy of errors. There was a show here that was canceled there and rescheduled for over there. I tried to keep up with the updates and changes, but it was about 75 miles away, which meant closing down the computer, getting in the car, and hoping for the best. The show times were wrong, the update came too late and we were already on the road. Ironically, we arrived at the venue with plenty of time to see the concert, but (thinking we were 3 hours early) we left to get food, arriving back at the venue just in time to hear the last three notes of the last song of the set. As we walked into the tiny venue I approached the stage. Will recognized me, and immediately apologized that the set was so short. My face fell.

"Oh... we just walked in the door - you mean we missed it? That wasn't the sound check?"

He stood up, looked around, pulled something out of his pocket, then leaned forward and in a low voice said "Here. Take this. Go to that counter and get some food - anything you want, you tell them you are with the band. I have to clear out this gear, and then we'll be back. You grab a table, we're going to rap."

Dan and I spent the next several hours hanging out with the band, eating dinner, talking music. Though we had missed the show itself, the night was incredible, unforgettable fun. There was another show scheduled for San Francisco just a week away, and at the end of the night Will gave me his cell number, saying if we made it up to the city early we should grab lunch and hang out again.

This photo was taken that night, just as the band piled into the van to move on to the next city on the tour.



The show in San Francisco promised to be a much larger production - a bigger venue on a weekend night. We loaded up our car and started heading north about mid-morning, arriving in the city about noon-ish. Will was out in the city, so we met him in the food court area at the base of a Macy's, picked up our respective lunches, and sat down. Our lunch ran for a couple hours as we exchanged stories of a billion different tangents, then it was time to meet up with the band and head over to the venue for sound check.

I had brought my camera with me, but did not want to disturb the band during the show that night with the flash, so I asked if it would be OK to shoot some pictures during the sound check. As they worked through their set up and testing, turning dials and rechecking, I wandered as quietly as I could taking shots here and there.




After the sound check, the guys wandered towards the backstage area to gather their stuff and get ready to head out and find dinner. Will remained on the stage for a bit, softly playing his guitar.




This is my favorite memory of Will. His energy on stage during shows was unmatched... whether leading his own band or playing with others... but this moment was something else. It was a beautiful thing to watch the music flow through him so organically. There was no show, no audience, no band that he played to... it was just his own contemplation of melody as he stood on the empty stage.

From that time on I became more involved with his group, helping Bud to manage things, conveying announcements as needed. Dan and I were lucky enough to coordinate a trip to Portland with a show Owsley was scheduled for, and we met up and spent that afternoon meandering through some of my old stomping grounds before the gig. He was working on a new album, he was planning for the next set of shows, he was nominated for a Grammy. He was such an amazing talent, we were all so excited he would finally get the recognition he deserved.

Then the music industry began to crumble... record companies closed, contracts were shifted around, the industry seemed to stall out. In the midst of the trials and tribulations, Will fought to take back the rights to his music and put out a second album for his grateful and hungry fans. As the machine changed he rolled with it, working in production and playing while continuing to write his own music and release singles on iTunes. From what I could see, he was always pushing and finding a way to make it work.

Over the years we talked fairly regularly. There would be blocks of time where we would fall out of contact, then we'd catch up with a long conversation... sharing stories about family, work... just life in general. He had a big heart and a passionate soul, and was a great friend to lean on when you needed support, or to celebrate with when you had great news.

I last saw him a few years ago, he was working on Amy Grant's touring band and they had a gig at a vineyard just up the road from my house. Dan and I drove up early and spent the afternoon kicking back with him before the show. It was wonderful to see him again... to talk and to watch him play. Our good-byes that night were swift... just after the show he had to race to catch a flight. We hugged, said good night, and see you next time. Our last conversation of length was this past winter, we caught up on family happenings, life experiences, plans for the future. He had big dreams, big projects he was working on, and he sounded excited... optimistic and as enthusiastic as ever. I always smiled at the excitement in his voice when he'd describe the details of what he was working on next.

Saturday morning I woke and logged into my email to find a barrage of messages asking if the rumors were true. Determined to prove the rumors wrong, I picked up the phone and dialed Will's cell and my heart sank as an unfamiliar voice answered... confirming the worst.

Will Owsley passed away Friday April 30th at the tragically young age of 44. My heart aches for his family as my mind still struggles with disbelief.

I treasure the memories I have of Will... the way he lit up on stage when he played, the enthusiasm in his voice when we talked, the energy he poured into his music. His boldness and passion inspired me to continue to pursue my own creative endeavors, to take chances and find a way to make my mark on the world. I feel lucky to have had him in my life and privileged to have called him a friend.

He touched my life in ways I cannot put into words... I miss him terribly.