Friday, July 2, 2021

Eulogy For Jeff Levy by Don Taco

 For Jeff Levy                                                                          by Don Taco


   I was asked to provide the character sketch for a friend's obituary. Others will add the historic and family details. I thought I'd share it, since it is writing, and recent.



  I met Jeff Levy at the bus stop in Isla Vista, in 1976, with Scott and Alan, the afternoon that they ran into each other and played together for the first time. It was the first time I tried out the tub bass. I had seen them all at events, such as the Ecology Action potluck meetings, but we didn't really know each other before that day. After many hours of tunes, as we packed up, Scott said, "So, are we gonna be a band, or what?," and we were a band. So, first, we were bandmates, and then became friends, which is, I believe, what happened with anyone and everyone who met Jeff. They became his friend. That was what he was like, more than anything else. He had over 1400 friends on Facebook alone, knew them all by name, and that didn't even scratch the number of others he met on his journey, including many well-known, and even famous, musicians. He also seemed to have a knack for being in the right place to meet unexpected folks, such as Grandpa Munster, Cal Worthington (Go see Cal!), and even Willie Nelson. 


  Jeff's sister Cheryl acquired a camera early, and became a photographer. Jeff was a handy subject in those early years, and so his youth is better documented than many in a series of charming vignettes, always captured with that smile we all knew and loved. There is also a photo of him at a very tender age, dressed as a cowboy, with a plastic Mickey Mouse guitar. Not only one of the most delightful captured memories, but possibly the most prophetic ever.


  The crucible that was the Hurricane Band took our individual talents to incredible levels, and, because the foundation of that music was the driving powerhouse mandolin, Jeff was free to develop a rhythm style that explored patterns and voicings, danced his way through the chords, and accented the rhythm instead of just laying it out. This served him well. Many rhythm guitarists and solo guitarists never get so adept or so expressive. He also learned to sing, very well, and then began to write his own songs, beautifully constructed pictures of life that moved you and stayed with you.


  After that band moved on to other colleges and towns, Jeff turned his attention from the reggae and rock'n'roll we played so much of, and excelled at picking out the best of the best from the country music that he truly loved. His distaste for the drek available on the jukebox, when so much incredible music was available, was well-known.


  There's so much more, such as the time he insisted that his birthday party be at a Dodgers game, and we piled into every available car and drove to Los Angeles. I'm sure every one of you reading this is polishing a treasured moment in your memories of him right now.


  And I know that we already miss him more than we can say.

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