To Moe Tucker (first letter)

Dear Maureen,
I’ve been listening to you nearly all my life and I still feel like I’m hearing the beats and stories for the first time. I put on After Hours yesterday (that Lou song you sing so well on the 69′ album) and thought: Yeah. I closed the door when I was 16 and the night has lasted forever
I thank God you replaced the first drummer (this is not easy for me to do as I’m barely agnostic).
I read that by 1972 you still considered yourself a data-entry clerk.  This once seemed impossible to me, incomprehensible – how could you reconcile this view with the momentous gifts you’ve given us?
Being strictly self-taught has been key, along with the miracle of Bo Diddley.
There’s a photo of you taken in 1995 that stays with me.  You’ve just purchased your first home and casually pose in front of it, standing between your mother and sister.  You’ve never done much for yourself but you’ve changed the world for so many.
I still find myself trying to imagine what it was like.
If you close the door, the night could last forever
Keep the sunshine out and say hello to never

All the people are dancing and they’re havin’ such fun

I wish it could happen to me

But if you close the door, I’d never have to see the day again.

If you close the door, the night could last forever

Leave the wineglass out and drink a toast to never

Oh, someday I know someone will look into my eyes

And say hello — you’re my very special one–

But if you close the door, I’d never have to see the day again.

Dark cloudy bars

Shiny Cadillac cars

And the people on subways and trains

Looking gray in the rain as they stand disarrayed
All the people look well in the dark

And if you close the door, the night could last forever.

Leave the sunshine out and say hello to never

All the people are dancing and they’re having such fun

I wish it could happen to me

‘Cause if you close the door, I’d never have to see the day again.

I’d never have to see the day again.

(once more)
I’d never have to see the day again.
I’m indebted to you for not considering yourself a musician. I’m so grateful that you went and did what you’ve done anyway — expecting nothing but the thing itself — an art for life unblemished.
jeremy