The Sam's C-Word

I insisted that no one was allowed to apologise at The Sams' band practices.

Sorry, sorry, sorrys impede exploration where I wanted to fly free.

They waste time, and they are contagious, I said.

I needed to be comfortable.

Sam tried to bring me around to his style of practice, where you bark curses at each other, but I would always storm off in a huff.

After that he used the word 'comfortable' repeatedly, as in "Are you comfortable KD? We want you to be comfortable. "

After I had a hissy fit, 'comfortable' was always referred to by The Sams as the 'C-Word.'

Never A Dull Moment

There was never a dull moment with Sam around.

Circle of Protection

Sam made a dome around us with his hands.

"There, KD," he says, "You are now under my circle of protection."

It was beautiful while it lasted.

I was beautiful when I was with Sam.

It Was Fun While It Lasted

Sam and KD at Ziggys, Winston-Salem, NC

"You're a lot different than I thought you'd be," said Sam, chuckling, and shaking his head. He thought I'd be confident, maybe even arrogant.

I intimidate, I command a room when I walk in, he says, yet he had quickly come to learn that I'm an introverted hotbed of insecurities.

I can sing and play to thousands of people but I can barely leave my house.

I cry before shows yet I dream of the stage.

Sam is solid. Up to the end, he was always Sam.

I am flitting, flitting, flitting, ever changing, sneaky, and variable, under seige by my emotions.

Sam says let him be my rock.

He holds me and strokes my hair.

I Love You Sam Moss

My Well Documented Life

Thanks to Sam. He loved to take photographs.

'The Look'

I'm getting 'the look' in Sam's basement at practice.

Sometimes I didn't look for 'the look.' Sometimes I tried to give it back.

It's All Good

Yet another wide-eyed fan has approached Sam and asked him does he really know Mitch Easter? REM? Peter Holsapple? ZZ Top! How amazing! How did Sam feel being in the presence of such greatness?

"Doesn't that just piss you off, Sam?" I say, glowering after Mitch's gushing fan.

"Nah," shrugs Sam. "It's all good. I'd take a bullet for any one of those guys. They're my brothers."

"They don't even know who they're talking to!" I sniff. "Of all the nerve!"

Sam just laughs.

"It's all good," says Sam, and means it.

Sam Loved to Fly

Sam loved to fly. He used to own his own airplane, and had many pilot friends. He never missed the local air shows, and if he heard an aircraft overhead, he'd bolt out of his house to see what it was and where it was going. Now as I mourn his loss I think he sends me birds, sailing in formation back and forth across the sky. I find a feather at my back door and say, "Why thank-you Sam!" through my tears.

Our Dinner Party

Sam loved to cook. We used to plan who we would invite to our dinner party when we were famous, and finally living in a house that was big enough for the both of us. Keith Richards was always invited, and Jeff Beck, as well as any surviving Beatles.

The rest was mayhem.

Dr. Ruth, Tammy Faye, Rosie and Donald, Dolly Parton, Johnny Cash, Jimmy Carter, ZZ Top, Wayne Newton, Neils: Diamond and Young and a host of other interesting souls sat at our table. We even had a dinner party in purgatory because, according to Sam, that was where all the coolest cats hung out.

I had to veto Lucinda Williams.

"You do not have to be jealous of Lucinda Williams!" said Sam.

"Still," I said, "She is not coming and that is final!"

We Drank Whiskey

Sam at Electromagnetic Radiation Recorders, 2006, where we laid down tracks for our album. Doug Williams, who was also our bass player in The Sams, owns this studio. He's got "great ears" and a roster of amazing clients to prove it.

http://www.emrrecorders.com/emrr-08-clients.html

Pleased to Meet You

"That was two weeks ago!" I yelled. "Don't try to hold me to something I said two weeks ago, Mr. Sam Moss! I am a totally different person! Hel-lo-o!"

Sam looks at me with interest. "Go on," he says.

"It's the day chef! And the night chef!" I cry. Sam watches me as I pace back and forth across his living room. "Please expound," he says.

My words are like stumbling colts let out of the gate all at the same time. I explain to Sam like he should already know. The day chef uses all the sugar, then fills up the empty sugar barrel for the night chef! The night chef uses all the sugar then fills it up for the day chef!

"And?" says Sam.

"And it looks the same, it smells the same, it tastes the same, it's in the same barrel," I cry, "But its different, every single crystal is entirely different!"

"I see what you mean," says Sam.

"You can go through a lot of sugar in two weeks, Sam," I explain patiently. "A whole lot."

"Point taken," says Sam.

Sam started a ritual between us after that.

"Hello! My name is Sam. Sam Moss," he'd say, sticking out his hand. "And you are?"

"KD. KD Rouse," I'd say. "Pleased to meet you."

Wake Up. Sam Moss is Dead.

"You should go see Sam," said one of my co-workers.

"He's been getting on my nerves," I said, with a wave of my hand. "I'm almost ready to see him."

The next morning, May 5th, 2007. my roommate shook me and cried, "Wake up, KD! Sam Moss is dead!"

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Not Sam. Please Not Sam.

Dylan Went Electric

There were many songs that I would have never penned if it hadn't been for Sam. He "fed" me Dylan Went Electric, for example, in a late night phone call--"a Martha Mitchell," he called it. He told me about his frustrations with his guitar store.
He had had it for 20 years!
He was tired of it.
He was tired of people bringing in their ebay bargain guitars for him to see.
He was tired of having to give an audience to whoever walked through his door.
He was tired of people showboating and whanking off and playing the same old tired guitar licks.
He hated it when people said, "Are you still playing, man?"
So many people promised to come out to his gigs and didn't.
So many people could only remember him for his yesteryear. They had their version of Sam Moss and they wouldn't even let the man himself change their minds.
Dylan went electric, Neil Young was sued by his own record label for "not sounding like himself," and Sam Moss played his heart out and nobody came.


Dylan Went Electric KD Rouse c. 2002


Like a priest at confession
He grants absolution to all the boys in the bands
He looks past the boasts and sentimental toasts
He's got their world in his hands
I've got the pen
He's got the wisdom
Let the conversation flow
It's ok
It's fine, he says
It's the shots that I have taken
Just like when Dylan went electric
Newport '65
Jesus, he was crucified
So if I'm caught in this thing gone awry
Who am I to say
Who am I

They came from miles around just to hear his song
Sung in fragments when he speaks
Who am I to say he said
Just a dag from Winston
He says he wishes he could sleep
I've got the pen
He's got the wisdom
Let the conversation flow
It's ok
It's fine, he says
It's the shots that I have taken
Just like when Dylan went electric
Newport '65
Jesus, he was crucified
So if I'm caught in this thing gone awry
Who am I to say
Who am I

Opposites Attract

We were so different, Sam and I. I am shy and difficult to get to know. He was friend to everyone. He even had cats that would stroll into his house for regular visits.
While Sam was playing professionally by the time he was 15, I didn't even start to play guitar until I was 30.
"I can duplicate anyone's style, KD," Sam would say with a wry smile, "except for yours."
I can frustrate many musicians with my ways, like inadvertantly playing in strange tunings, like freezing up and not being able to tune on stage even with a tuner, like crying before shows. Sam would say, "Just try to lose me!" while we jammed. It made me unafraid to play from my heart. He tuned my guitar, just leaning over and tweaking it midtune if he had to. He gave me peptalks before shows. "This is what we love to do!" he'd say. "Remember?"
And after a few deep breaths, I would remember.

Sam and the Samurais

My sons the Samurais played music with Sam too, in fun filled weekends we called Band Camp.

This is their site:

http://myspace.com/thesamuraisband

The Sams On Our Street

The Sams in Winston-Salem, NC in 2006. Sam's house is next door to the blue house behind the stop sign. I lived a block the other way. I fled Winston-Salem after Sam's memorial and I haven't been back. I don't think I can face it.

I Have a Sister, Remember?

"I can tell you're an only child," I said to Sam, haughtily, "Because you're so bossy. But I am the middle child and we don't like being told what to do!"
"I'm not an only child," said Sam. "I have a sister, remember?"

What I Said At Sam's Memorial

Sam, Sam, Sam.
Sam is the only person I’ve ever seen grinning from the back of a police car. He had been pulled over because he was “acting strange.” He’s always like that! I cried. That’s Sam. Sam Moss! They took him downtown anyway.

I spent a few hours pacing in the grim surroundings of the magistrate’s office at midnight, cursing the Justice System, worried sick about Sam in such a place. Finally I was allowed back to sign papers for his release.

I saw Sam before he saw me. I watched him, loving him, because there he was, so so Sam, laughing, talking and entertaining all his new friends, the policemen, the magistrate, the office workers, managing to gesticulate even in his handcuffs. I had to pull him away from his new friends. Sam! I said. Come back! Do you have Stockholm’s Syndrome? Oh they’re good cats, says Sam. They’re just doing their job.
Give Sam lemons and he would make martinis.

Sam was my best friend, my mentor, my musical partner, my bandmate, and we were in and out of a crazy romance.
The Sams was a natural name for our band. Doug, Dave and I were very proud of our stripes, having made it through Sam’s bootcamp, his Sgt. Carter peptalks, and what we called “the look” which we tried to avoid. They don’t call me Moss the Boss for nothing he’d say.

Sam was big. He had big hair, a big heart, big talent, a big spirit and a big presence. He laughed because I could never ride in a car with him without the windows down even if it was 10 degrees outside. He may have looked like a scrawny bag of bones but he was just so so big.

I want to remember Sam not for his death but for his life.
I want to remember the glow in his eyes, his excitement, his child-like enthusiasm, his lust for life, his pep talks, his nimble fingers, , how he inspired my children, myself my bandmates, and anyone who wanted to learn.
I want to remember how he loved us, all of us, each and every one.

Sail Away by KD Rouse
( I sang the first few verses acapella to Sam at his Memorial)

In the still of the night there is thunder
The heartbeat of a solitary man
He lies awake listening in wonder to the sounds that only he can understand.

He’s got his gun, his 30 year old whiskey
One by one he counts the reasons why
To some existence is a question
Every day just fighting to get by

Sail away Sail away
Through heaven’s gate
Til you are wakened by the dawn
Sail away Sail away
It’s not too late
The night bird calls and then it’s gone

In the still of the night may you remember
All the lonely hours you have lived
Reach out your hand to your weary brother
Show him that there’s so much more to give

Sail away Sail away
Through heaven’s gate
Til you are wakened by the dawn
Sail away Sail away
It’s not too late
The night bird calls and then it’s gone

Our Compound

Sam and I cried like babies when I moved out of my rental house of 7 years in December 2006. It was only two blocks from Sam's house and it made it easy to see each other, but I was falling further and further behind with my bills. Depression will make you very reclusive.

I gave Sam a painting and on the back it said "I love you, Sam! In my way! XOXOX! KD Christmas 2006."

I always said "I loved him in my way," because I am not a very good companion. I'd be cross if Sam talked too much and I hardly ever wanted to go out on the town. Sam would tell me he wouldn't change a hair on my crazy head.

After I moved, Sam clocked the distance. "It's only 3 miles, but it's a long 3 miles, KD," he said, sadly. And it was. And now Sam is dead. I don't want to be here either.

The Sams Against The Wall in Winston-Salem

Doug Williams, KD Rouse, Dave Toaster Seward, Sam Moss

Free Lance Author Rick Farmer chose us as 1 of the 5 bands to watch in the Triad. Our friend Rom Ray took this photo behind Dorminy Studios in Winston-Salem, NC.

My Indescribable Friend

Sam and I shared stages.

We played Gypsy Nurse.

The Sams First and Probably Last Movie

This is a movie I made of The Sams using still photographs. Sam got a big kick out it.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WY7q3Iw3BiA

We Bomb Opening for Sister Hazel

The crowd waiting for Sister Hazel, that was eager for me to get off stage.

I had been badly shaken on stage and wasn't sure I even wanted to be a performer. Sam and I had opened for Sister Hazel at Ziggy's in April and everything that could go wrong, did. I had been stuck at work, Sam wasn't allowed to drive and didn't make it to the sound check.

I sort of treated Sam like a Mama on stage I realized later. I expected him to fix everything and make it right. He tried so hard that night and the crowd loved him despite feedback, mikes and guitars going dead. I froze and ran off the stage without another word.

I hate myself now. I told Sam he looked like a rodeo clown. I could tell it hurt his feelings, but I was too busy crying in the green room. The crowd had looked like rows and rows of sharp teeth, I had bombed, and I didn't know if I even wanted to be a performer.

The Sams

Sam and I lost track of each other after the other Dirty Boys moved, but then in about 2002 we started The Sams together. We practiced in Sam's basement. Sam said he looked forward to practices all week. "It's what I live for," he said. I felt later like I had helped kill him. I was the one who said, "Let's take a break." Sam killed himself in that break. I can still hear myself say, "I don't feel musical right now."

We Were Like Proud Parents

Sam Moss, KD Rouse, and Doug Williams at KD's son's wedding reception in October 2006.

KD Rouse and the Dirty Boys

KD Rouse and the Dirty Boys at Ziggys in 1998

Together we recorded the Unfinished Symphony. Although never released, Sam was very proud of his work on it.

College Hill Loved Us

KD and Sam, playing with The Sams at College Hill Sundries in Greensboro, NC in 2006.

The place was tiny but the crowd was appreciative.

To Be Or Not To Be

Sam at his house.

There were guitars everywhere. "How can you be sad," he would say, playing a loud and buttery lick, "when you can start the day like this?"

Sam always gave me peptalks about life.

It never entered my mind that he would take his own life.

I Suffer Therefore I Am

So it all comes down to stories in the end.

Sam is but a dream yet I must go on.

Before I do, I have to have my own tribute to Sam.

Photo Taken by Sam Moss

'My Sam'

Sam had friends spanning many eras, and in his last years, he had shifts and rounds. Everyone at his memorial cried for a different Sam. The Sam I knew and loved, with whom I shared stages, and viciously fought with, is gone, along with all the other Sams.

'Yanking Wire' as he would say

Sam Moss in a private moment

KD and Sam at Rubber Soul, Winston-Salem, NC

This was our local hot spot. Sam would drop in at Rubber Soul almost every night on his rounds. Very often, he'd sit in with whoever was playing. Unfortunately, Rubber Soul died right after Sam did.

I can't move forward Sam

I can't move forward Sam, and I can't go back. What is life without you? You were the best friend I ever had. I know you had a jillion friends, but for me it was you, just you. I'm hoping if I share our story, I can let you rest in peace. I can move on and make you proud of me. Right now all I can do is cry.

MOSSMOSIS:My life with legendary guitarist Sam Moss

I could spit bullets, and Sam would cheer me on too. His eulogies all have him frolicking in heaven with his wife Dido, who preceded him in death by nine years. Dido was perfectly quirky and I know Sam loved her dearly, but he did not die with her. Maybe it takes the sting out to give Sam’s death the stamp of a broken-hearted husband, but I personally do not think his suicide can be so neatly explained. I am one of the cast of characters in Sam’s “Lost Years,” the time so many of his eulogists seem to deny.
Knowing what I know now, I agree that Sam might have been close to suicide in 1998, but then he met a few reasons to live, I, KD Rouse, happening to be one of them. You can say what you want about Sam, but he filled his last nine years. Packed them.
Sam shot himself on May 5, 2007, with one neat, clean bullet through his head. May, June, July, August, September, October, 1,2,3,4,5,6 months ago, and all I can do is cry, cry, cry. I miss him to the marrow, and I am jealous of a dead woman.
Charismatic, enigmatic, master guitarist Sam Moss: The world should have known his name. Now he’s dead.
May 5, 2007, chokes me like no other day. I can’t move forward. I can’t go back. My lightest moments: catfights in heaven.
Everyone who thinks I am a loser is right. I couldn’t keep a great man alive and maybe I had the opportunity if I had been better, kinder, stronger.
So what if I was an enabler along with it? I am an enabler. That’s all I’ve ever been in relationships is an enabler. Why stop with Sam? At least he’d be alive.
“Redonkulous,” says Sam.
Maybe if I had been able to be enabled, Sam would be alive. He was very nurturing, Sam was. He loved to cook and-
“Hit some licks, KD,” says Sam. “You know you’ll feel better.”