Let’s Make it Better

Posted by : Jonh Schwartz

Some time ago Ian and I decided to start a “band” to get laid. We figured if it worked for Jimmy Buffet we should be able to pull it off too. The band existed in concept long before we actually played a note together. We never seemed at a shortage for ideas. We amused ourselves with the notion of playing shows. One afternoon we discussed what would happen if and when we actually played some gigs. We realized that inevitably there would come a time where some heckler would yell out a request for “Freebird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. We are the types that like to turn jokes around on people, so we decided then and there that we needed to write our own song and call it “Freebird.” This way, when someone calls out for “Freebird,” we could retort; “You’re familiar with our work, awesome.” And then we would play our song. We never got to fully realize our convoluted joke, but we got half way there. We wrote our own rendition of “Freebird” which we put out on the Abomination Nation Compilation (a DIY label started by our friend Brian Fernandes). We recorded it one afternoon at Brian’s practice space in SoDo (Seattle). We got a little buzzed by the end and didn’t realize the vocals were peaking as much as they did. Ian sings on the track. Listen carefully to realize the full genius of the song. Warning: Explicit Lyrics

We had a slew of songs yet to be realized. Here’s a sample of tentative track titles:

Unicorn
The Stripper Song
I Can Fuck You Better (Than I Play Guitar)
Buy Me a Jack and Coke

We had another handful of tunes without titles or words. In time I’ll get them up to share with everyone.  And in case you were wondering, the band name is read as “The Dyslexic Pines.”

Ian, we were supposed to take over the world. I’m going to miss creating with you. You are an inspiration and I’m not going to let that die.

This is the last piece of music Ian and I recorded. This came out of a jam we had on January 5th, 2009 at 911 Seattle Media Arts Center. I’m on guitar and Ian’s rocking the bass.

Posted by: Jonh Schwartz

Yesterday was Ian’s Birthday and I had wanted to put something up, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so.  I’ve had trouble finding words and more trouble sharing them.  Words alone are empty and meaningless. How can they describe someone so meaningful?  I don’t think I can do Ian justice. I just hope he knows I love and miss him.

I don’t usually like to do this sort of thing, but I’m going to share some words I jotted down on Saturday at 4 AM:

A year ago we were having some birthday beers and whiskeys at the Cha Cha. We we’re making fun of ourselves for being lady-less. We concluded we had no fortune, no confidence, and no tact. And maybe we were right. Maybe we had none of those. But we had so much more. You had so much more…

I wish you knew. I wish I reminded you. I can’t help but to think…

Two day days before that, I brought you to a show. It was Abe’s birthday, and my gift for yours. We had drinks. We had fun. Quite a bit… We made friends with modern day Abes, we drunk dialed Tina, and you made fun of the drawn-on Hitler stash I inherited sometime during the night…

I wish I remembered more details. I never knew how much I’d miss them…

And now I say Happy Birthday. Only it’s less happy.

The world’s less happy without you.

Rest in peace buddy.

This is a picture of Ian surveying the Seattle Youth Employment Program (SYEP) class this past summer. He taught the kids, along with Jonh Schwartz and various 911 interns, all about digital art production, from video to animation, photoshop and all the rest.

The last class Ian taught was an adult education weekend course in video production, covering camera use, lighting, sound recording, editing, and just about everything else in a crash-course pair of extra long work-days.

This is Carlos Esparza typing, 911 ‘Web Guru.’ Ian’s job title, incidentally was ‘Education Coordinator/Office Manager/Intern Overlord.’ That was his title largely because I told him I’d put it on the website that way (and i did).

The last time I saw him was just after the first day of that video production class. We (both being young guys) talked about how great it felt to teach classes for adults, especially people older than us, explaining concepts, and having them listen, telling them what to do, and actually finding that they would do it (!). Generally, we reveled in the respect given us by our students, I reckoned: an acknowledgment from them that we know what we’re doing, he reckoned: an acknowledgment that they’d paid for the class and ‘damn well better learn something from it.’

We talked about how we decide on our lesson plans (largely by the seat of our pants), and how much fun we have teaching, and helping people with their projects. Helping others to realize their vision.

I remember thinking that night that how fun it would be to continue teaching classes, and continue comparing notes with him. Laughing, and having so much fun with the idea of being in that most glamorous of businesses: education. And here we were, teaching subjects of which we were so recently students.

I dearly wish that we could have continued having these kinds of conversations indefinitely.

I miss you Ian.