Fuck Elvis.

May 1 would have been Jay Lindsey's 31st birthday. The fact that he's not still here to make music and wreak havoc is a loss for many of us.

For a long time, I have been hesitant to try to write anything publicly about Jay Reatard. First of all, the best writing about Jay has already been done by Andrew Earles. I also didn't get to know Jay beyond appreciating his music and seeing him at shows. I understand that my grief is minor compared to many of my friends who knew Jay as a complete human being. I can't claim any special understanding or insight into what made him tick. Frankly, I am not sure I have much to add to the conversation about him. Yet, even if it's only for my own comfort, I feel the need to try to write something. I can only try to untangle my own feelings about Jay and looming despair over his short life.

I didn't realize how much Jay's life impacted my own until he was gone. He was a walking reminder for me that it was possible to do great things, to create and to live freely. I loved so much of the vast amount of music he released in such a short time, but even more than that, I admired his energy, his lack of compromise, hard work and his dogged determination to do what he wanted to do.

The fact that he did these things in Memphis, Tennessee only made these qualities all the more appealing to me. It made me proud when I would think about a guy--roughly my age--doing great things while living in Memphis. Maybe it's a product of growing up in and around a place where it sometimes felt like greatness had come and gone before I arrived. It's impossible to argue the timelessness of Otis Redding, Big Star, Al Green and Willie Mitchell, but those artists were echoes of the once-loud buzz of greatness that defined Memphis for the decades before I was born. That music always made me swell with pride in where I grew up, but it wasn't happening now. There is an extra excitement associated with being close to greatness as it is happening. There is a constant awareness that something great could very well be going on at this very second.  Even if I wasn't creating any of the wonderful things I sometimes felt I had lurking around inside, it was comforting and energizing to know that someone out there was. Jay was often that someone for me.