The story of the late great Kevin Gilbert is one that has been unjustly absent from the public consciousness in the thirteen years that have passed since his untimely and undignified death. It is ironic that the frustrating habit of anonymity that prevailed in Gilbert’s life has extended into his death, most unusual in a world where tales of tragedy are so often romanticized and dramatized into public awareness.
Gilbert was an indecently talented multi-instrumentalist from San Mateo, California, who grew up to the sounds of the classic 1970s progressive rock bands like Genesis, Yes and King Crimson and who, if not for his premature death, would surely have breathed life into the movement which had all but declined by the 90s. He managed to overcome his small town upbringing, and his own dark psyche, through his prodigious musical skill and intellect. He ascended quickly through the musical ranks in the 80s, eventually winning an international music competition as a twenty-one year old in 1988 with his band Giraffe. His exploits caught the attention of producer and keyboardist Patrick Leonard who invited Gilbert to work with him. Leonard and Gilbert’s new band Toy Matinee, which included Leonard's fellow Pink Floyd alumnus Guy Pratt, released a self-titled debut album in 1990 which faded into obscurity through a combination of bad management and bad luck.
Unfulfilled promise would become the unending theme of Gilbert’s career. From Toy Matinee, to his eclectic and powerful solo records Thud [1] and The Shaming of the True [2], to the re-forming of Giraffe to play a historic and brilliant concert at Progfest 94, covering the Genesis masterpiece The Lamb Lies down on Broadway, to many other minor musical exploits the theme remained the same. The only album on which Gilbert was involved that ever achieved any semblance of commercial success, was Tuesday Night Music Club by Sheryl Crow, and therein lays the tragedy of Gilbert’s life. Crow was involved in with Gilbert in the early 90s and was brought along by her boyfriend to a session of the Tuesday Music Club in Los Angeles. This club was a collection of fabulous musicians who gathered every Tuesday to collaborate partially for their own kicks, and partially as a way of drowning out their sorrows and dissention at the music business. As a singer-songwriter who perhaps lacked much of the natural talent of her many contemporaries, Crow was struggling to get anything of note created and so the ever-loyal GIlbert felt compelled to take her under the wings of the Music Club, who essentially on their own created the iconic songs that would come to be Crow’s debut Tuesday Night Music Club, credit for which they, particularly Gilbert, were robbed.
Barely two years later Gilbert was found dead in the middle of a bizarre fetishist ritual. His manager found his body when coming to tell him that he had achieved an audition to join Genesis as their new front man. With his passing the band instead opted for a far less accomplished or naturally fitting Irishman by the name of Ray Wilson, and after one album the band split. It is unknown if his death was an accident or suicide. There is enough on the internet on this fantastically soap-opera worthy story for you to draw your own opinions [3][4], but what is undisputed is the huge loss to the musical world suffered thirteen years ago yesterday. Although it is not without precedent, I make no claim that Crow was responsible for Gilbert’s death somehow. In all likelihood his passing was a horrible accident, and even if not, he had long had a history of self destructive insecurity and depression, as so often happens with the most genius of people. But the story of this injustice is necessary to tell so as to raise awareness of some of the vagaries of commercial culture in the 90s as a whole, and particularly to raise awareness of the man himself. The fact that Gilbert never saw success in his own right means it is only the famous tunes such as All I Wanna Do, Leaving Las Vegas and Run, Baby, Run on that album that will ever be encountered by a majority of people amongst all his work.
Next time you hear any of these [5] songs on the radio, cast a small thought the way of Kevin Gilbert, the rock ‘n’ roll hero that should have been.
Kevin Gilbert Videos...
A pity we can't get a hold of any of his albums in next few weeks to review.
ReplyDeleteThe videos linked are great, though he looks a bit goofy in the first one. Still, most people did during the 80s.