One of the things I missed was any quote from Patti when we lost Tom Verlaine despite it being her wonderful daughter Jesse who made the announcement that we heard over here . . . . .and I found this yesterday
There was no one like Tom. He possessed the child’s gift of transforming a drop of water into a poem that somehow begat music. In his last days, he had the selfless support of devoted friends. Having no children, he welcomed the love he received from my daughter, Jesse, and my son, Jackson.
In his final hours, watching him sleep, I travelled backward in time. We were in the apartment, and he cut my hair, and some pieces stuck out this way and that, so he called me Winghead. In the years to follow, simply Wing. Even when we got older, always Wing. And he, the boy who never grew up, aloft the Omega, a golden filament in the vibrant violet light.
Patti Smith
and then this from doom and gloom from the tomb
Tom Verlaine - Bloomsbury Theatre, London, England, May 5, 1990
Television’s first stabs at greatness are well-documented, from the Neon Boys to the Ork Loft to the Eno demos. One thing that’s missing, however, is any trace of Tom Verlaine as a solo act circa 1973. After the Neon Boys dissolved, he played a few open mics at spots like Gerdes Folk City and Reno Sweeney. This wasn’t a folkie thing, though.
“I decided to play the sets like I had a whole electric band behind me,” Verlaine recalled. “So I just went in with an electric guitar and turned it up. They really hated it, [but] Richard Lloyd was there and he liked it.”
Tom didn’t really pursue this solo setting much in the years to come — except in 1990, when he embarked on a tour all on his lonesome, armed with just an acoustic guitar. It’s not like it was back in the East Village, but the live tapes from the era give us a tantalizing glimpse of Tom Verlaine: solo troubadour.
I think this London gig is the best quality recording I’ve heard, and it’s a very cool listen. He doesn’t bust out stripped down versions of old Television classics (I would like to hear him do “Venus” like that, though), instead concentrating on the then-new LP The Wonder and other assorted solo numbers. Unsurprisingly, he’s not exactly a chatty cathy onstage; his solo presence is enigmatic but warm, bringing the audience into a calm, but not-entirely mellow space. My favorite part is the dreamlike hush of “I Am Daylight,” an inner monologue accompanied by a simply strummed guitar figure. A peaceful piece. And stick around for Verlaine’s oddball rendition of “I Walk The Line,” a tip of the hat from one Man in Black to another.
(Reblogged from doomandgloomfromthetomb)
Tom Verlaine - The Roxy, West Hollywood, California, October 17, 1981
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