Farewell, My Friend

The quarantine has taken away live music for most of us. Domestic Harmony, in all its various permutations, is no exception. We miss you!

What has taken the place of performance for me is songwriting. I'm lucky to be in a group of six creative, thoughtful singer/songwriters who meet monthly to share a song each and offer suggestions.

My songwriting partner for the last few years and starting back in 1968 was Steve Jubb, pictured here in 1973. (And yes, that's "little ol' me" in the background. Steve played offensive tackle. Yeah, Large.) For 53 years, we were in some form of contact. For the first seven, we were roommates, housemates, bandmates in four different bands, and friends. Then I moved across the country. Our lives and careers took us in opposite directions. But we never entirely lost touch.

Then in 2011, we almost "got the band together again" for a college reunion. That gig fizzled, but we were back playing music together. After Steve had a mini-stroke in 2013, he began to urge more music—both so he could recover facility in his hands and to renew our practice suspended since about 1977. So we began to meet periodically for writing sessions. Because Steve couldn't really play, I presented music—chords and sometimes melodies, sometimes a working title and the beginning of a lyric. In one of our living rooms, I'd loop a section of the song, and Steve would vocalize. Words would come, and ideas flourished. We recorded all of it on my iPhone for later sculpting. That process resulted in two completely finished songs and about three more that were in rough form. Probably another dozen that we auditioned and left for later. Ah, but there's the rub.

As Steve recovered from his stroke, other issues emerged. He was having greater and greater memory lapses. As we worked together, he had to give up driving altogether. Either his wife Connie would drive over and go for a long walk while we worked, or I'd go to Oakland. That worked for about another year and a half. During that time, Steve performed with Domestic Harmony once, We did a song he had written about 80% of the lyric for, By the time we did it, though, Steve was beyond performance capability. I treasure the moment for what it represents, but musically, it didn't really work. I hoped that with a few adjustments, we could try again. But I had back surgery, and by the time I got back on my feet, the window of co-writing had closed for good.

Steve passed away on the night of September 10th, at home, surrounded by family. It was as good an end as anyone could have hoped. But I was shocked nevertheless. As a former bandmate said on hearing the news, "I thought he was Superman."

I have songs I wrote with him and songs I have written about him. I hope to share one or more of those before too long on Soundcloud on this site. Stay tuned. But in closing, I want to quote from the last song I wrote about Steve, which I completed in August, just before he died. I had hoped to play it for him. The last verse is here:

I miss your voice

Like I miss the summer

When night comes on like a prayer

And the song of the wood thrush

Down in the hollow

Is the last melody that I hear

I will listen and hope

Though I know I will stumble

Through the long and jealous night

And I pray that I hear it

For one precious moment

Before I lay down by your side