a few words for David Sanjek, RIP.
More here on a kind soul and wonderful scholar.
I was one of the many graduate students Dave befriended in his manic, giving, wide-ranging way. He was damn funny even about his professional and personal heartaches, and he was damn smart, not just about music, but about film, literature, cultural criticism, summer camps, the music biz, and–most of all–about intellectual friendship and how much it was worth.
Dave has a wonderful and moving essay about sneaking childhood peeks into his father’s briefcase, which always contained numerous magazines, newspapers, record albums, recording contracts, letters, publicity photos, and more. In a way, that briefcase became Dave’s mind itself—a place full of treasures, from obscure guitar-slinging Nashville cats to the dance moves of ardent Northern soul fans, from crooners to funksters to folkies to free jazz, from copyright law to summer camp lore, from obscure film noir to the classics of American lit to the latest plays on the stage. The guy had range and he had love: for art, for music, most of all for people. Sometimes he could drive you crazy, but most of the time he made you appreciate finding ways to love the world’s beauty despite all its flaws.
Dave left a lot of essays and books half written. We should pull them together and get his words out. It’s something he struggled to do in his lifetime, but he had something to say in a lot of that material, and it deserves the kind of intense, serious-fun, wide-eyed, appreciative attention that he himself gave to art, music, culture, life—and to all of us. Count me in for that.
Sadly but in deep appreciation of Dave.