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.