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February 23, 2006

* "maybe i'll see you down on mad river, you could wave from the other side..."

Our good friend Molly called last night to let us know that Tim Kimrey had passed away earlier that afternoon at his home in Chapel Hill, after a bout with pneumonia.

Tim was one of the greatest supporters and friends a musician could possibly have. During my four years in the North Carolina Triangle, I developed a boundless respect and appreciation for him that was shared by pretty much everyone involved in the Triangle music community, as well as a good number of touring artists who performed at his home over the years.

One of the most enjoyable things about the Triangle during my time there was the abundance of house concerts, and Tim was right in the thick of that circuit. He introduced his house concert series, which he whimsically dubbed "Afternoon Nap Productions," in 2000; in February 2001 I attended my first ANP show, which featured Austin singer-songwriter Beaver Nelson and his band. Kimrey's house was precisely what an artist such as Nelson needed: Not quite known enough nationally to be guaranteed a good draw at a local club, Nelson was able to play to a full (if modest-sized) crowd of about 50 in Tim's living room. Folks came out whether they were familiar with Nelson or not, simply because they trusted Tim's judgment; if Afternoon Nap was presenting it, there must be a good reason to attend.

Not only that, Tim's house was simply a great place to see a show. His friends had helped build a fair-sized removable wooden stage, which elevated the performers just enough to make the sightlines good for everyone. A vaulted ceiling provided a roomy atmosphere and good acoustics, and he could get quite a few rows of chairs on either wing of his L-shaped living room. (Indeed, it was Kimrey's chair-arrangement that my wife and I basically copied here in Poulsbo last fall when we presented our first house concert in a similarly shaped living room.) A wonderful courtyard with a fountain just outside the kitchen door provided an ideal spot for hanging out and talking with fellow concertgoers between sets or before and after the show.

Over the ensuing years I went to about a half-dozen house concerts at Tim's place, including appearances by two artists who have appeared on the cover of No Depression (Jason Ringenberg and Mary Gauthier), as well as a couple more shows by Beaver Nelson, who enjoyed that first outing enough to become a devoted repeat performer. (For a full list of acts who appeared at Kimrey's over the years, check out www.afternoonnap.org and click on "Past Shows.")

Perhaps my most memorable experience at Tim's, though, was not a concert at all, but rather a wake he hosted in November 2003 for Gerry Livers, another beloved member of the Carolina music community who had passed away suddenly a few days earlier. We paid tribute to Gerry with shared recollections and songs, looked over old photos and mementos, and took comfort in the presence of those whose lives he had also touched. Kimrey was kind and gracious enough to provide a perfect place for us to gather on such an occasion; like Gerry, Tim held music very near and dear to his heart, and thus there's no doubt Gerry would have appreciated the gesture.

Occasionally I'd see Tim out at shows and we'd talk for a little bit; I can't say that I ever got to know him really well, but I knew him well enough to understand how fundamentally decent and honorable a man he was. Both Tim and I also posted regularly to Guitartown, a Yahoo message-board community of mostly NC roots-music fans, and I still think of Tim when I remember how the Guitartowners reacted to the news of September 11, 2001. Like most every community, no doubt, we had a wide range of responses that day, from the obvious shock and horror and hurt, to the understandable lashing-out, to the attempts to come to grips with what it all meant for America's future. One regular, who was (and still is) a friend, declared that "This is a time for violence and retribution," and proceeded to advocate wholesale violence against Arabs in general. My reply (posting under my longtime handle Zeitgolf) was, simply: "In your fever to kill indiscriminately with no regard for those who are innocent, I ask that you shoot me first." Tim chimed in shortly thereafter: "After you're done with Zeitgolf, come find me: Tim, 4003 Oak Hill Road, CH." That memory of Tim has stayed with me to this day.

Finally, there is one detail about Tim that I've neglected to mention in this remembrance. It was something he dealt with every day, but it did not define or determine who he was as a person, which is why I ultimately thought it proper to write all of the above without addressing this particular aspect of his life. However, I'd very much recommend checking out the following link to a photo essay on Tim done by a UNC student which will explain that side of things:

www.nclendenin.com/portfolio/j80/timkim/pages/clendenin_6a.htm

In one of the final comments near the end of that piece, Tim is quoted as saying, "If I could be reincarnated, I'd come back as a rock star." I've got news for you, Tim -- you already were.

adios,
peter

Posted by Peter at 8:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)