Geoffrey Arcand

I woke up this very early this morning, like I always do, got a drink of water, and then looked at the time. 4:00 AM. Wow. Really?

“It’s four in the morning, the end of December. I’m writing you now just to see if you are better…” 

Leonard Cohen’s Famous Blue Raincoat.The Jennifer Warnes version. The definitive version of this song.

The album of the same name, along with some early Rickee Lee Jones this is some of the most important music to me. I think back to when I first heard this. It was 1987. I was just out of school. Working is restaurants, trying to figure out what to do with my life. A radio station, KEZX, was this weird beacon of …what to call it? Progressive? Eclectic? Thoughtful music for grownups? Whatever, it was my station and it was very important to me. Over the years I have scrounged together a playlist on my iPod of music I learned about on KEZX. Music I never would have known had I not been in Seattle then. Jesus, this is where I first heard Lucinda Williams. Wonderful old gut wrenching lesbian music like Claudia Schmidt or Cheryl Wheeler. Kooky Christine Lavin. Randy Newman blowing up London and Paris. Latin Quarter signing South African protest music before Mandela was free. Chrissie Hynde sining her Hymn to Her. Bonnie Raitte back when she was still good before she got sober. Even Roxy Music. There was no place else to hear this combination of music anywhere. When KEZX when off the air in the 1990’s I was kind of lost for a while. Maybe that is why I love KCRW so much now.

But back to Famous Blue Raincoat. I had this friend, Geoff. Geoff Arcand was a waiter. Short, hairy, funny, loud mouth, total pot head. I think he taught me how to drink. He got me started on these horrible peach flavored wine coolers. “They’re fuzzy!” he said. Geoff was straight but he had a little bit of a crush on me, and me on him too I guess. We hung out for a year or two. One night we were in the U District shopping at Tower Records. I had heard Famous Blue Raincoat on KEZX, so I bought the album. Driving him back to the Eastside that night he wanted to know what I had bought. I was a little embarrassed that it was a Jennifer Warnes album so I wouldn’t tell him. This pissed him off and we got in a big stupid fight. 

We didn’t talk for a while. He called me a few months later but I was on the phone with some boy that I had a crush on so I asked Geoff to call me back later. He never did.

I ran into him in the late 1990’s. He was waiting tables at some restaurant in Belltown and I was in there on a date drinking martini’s. We both saw each other but didn’t say anything. 

So all this went through my head at 4:00 AM this morning as the words to Famous Blue Raincoat were ringing in my head. My iPad was next to my bed so I decided to Google Geoff. The first thing that came up was post from Nancy Leson’s Seattle Times food blog. It showed a picture of Geoff opening wine at some restaurant in Wallingford. I smiled and thought it was good to see his face and I hoped he was well.

But then I looked down farther and saw some obituary notices. Nancy’s post was from 2009. Turns out Geoff died on my birthday last year after having a stroke. 

So now I am sitting here listing to sad old KEZX music and crying. 24 years is a long time but right now I can vividly remember lots of nights sitting around watching David Letterman after work with Geoff and his roommate Nile. 

Geoff had this distinct sense of humor.  Direct.  Crass.  Almost always in appropriate. Some quotes that come to mind:

 

“I could totally quit this fucking job and just go be the night clerk at 7-11.”

“I don’t even know these people.  Why are they being so fucking rude?”

“I wouldn’t fuck her with your dick!”  

Remembering these makes me happy.

I really can’t believe that he is dead. And how fucking weird is it that I found out by thinking about the very music that ended our friendship.

There is a line in Famous Blue Raincoat, “Did you ever go clear?” This has been the source of some humor and discussion over the years. To me it means did you leave your demons behind, get out, start over, do what ever it takes to be happy. 

So, Geoff Arcand. I remember you. I mourn you. And I really hope you went clear.

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