This week the Los Angeles music scene lost a real one. Greg Lee, founder and a singer of the ska band Hepcat, passed away after complications from a brain aneurysm followed by a heart attack. He was only 53.
The last 24 hours has been an outpouring of social media love and shared personal anecdotes about how great a guy he was and he was from the few fleeting encounters I had. Hepcat may not have been the most mainstream or huge band, but the love emanating from the LA music scene proved the contrary.
(photo courtesy of Tazy Phillips via X)
I have been seeing Hepcat since 1999 and each show has stuck in my brain and are all are vivid memories. Some bands’ shows come and go from my brain, as my working memory sweeps them away and makes room for new memories. With Hepcat, that was never the case. From the moment they hit stage, the room turns into a super bloom of color, light and joy. Dancing isn’t required, but I defy anyone to NOT dance to them, regardless of your lack of rhythm. This joy, this ecstasy, this impulse to move was all anchored by Greg Lee. His slim, tall frame, impeccable fashion and ear to ear smile was the nucleus to this symbiotic performer to spectator atom bomb. The drummer for Hepcat had a quote in the L.A. Times that sort of exemplifies this symbiosis:
“I’ve learned a crucial lesson, as a performer, that whatever vibe the band exudes, the crowd absorbs — and exudes back as well. It’s a mutual, chemical reaction. And Lee made sure that no matter what, every single time, his vibe was 100% pure positivity — I mean like a huge freakin’ sunbeam that he broadcast from the stage, warming everyone in its path,”
This quote stuck with me. I know it’s counter to my piece a few months back about Los Angeles crowds, but I do find what he says true, and Greg was likely one of the few people, in my opinion, to break the chains of cynicism.
As a performer, you’re there to present a part of yourself that may not be indicative of your normal day to day personality. Personally, I am mostly quiet and reserved around others. I’m all superego, worried about what others think, striving for perfection, never being wrong, taking moral high ground, and constantly analyzing and assessing my surroundings. It’s my Clark Kent form. When I am on stage, however, it’s all id. I let all of the self doubt, inhibitions and fears go. It’s as pure as I can be and it’s not a put on. It’s my Kal-El form. There’s a reason why after every show I play, someone will come up and say “Man, you’re fun to watch” or “You real love playing those drums, don’t you?” or things of that nature. Sure, I can look at it as a back handed compliment, but why? They noticed me and took the time to tell me. Whether they liked it or not, I got them to stop for a moment and observe someone doing something they love to do. I think this applies to the “mutual chemical reaction” alluded to above.
This chemical reaction can just be an ideal, as I discussed with a band mate yesterday, but like all things, what you put out there, you do inevitably get back. Live music is an instant gratification process. The band plays songs, the crowd reacts. That’s kinda it. How those factors mesh is all random. Yes, one can put their all into a performance only to have no one really notice, or care (I know, as I’ve been there about 1000 times) but, like anything that is worth it’s weight, it will turn around and to use a tired analogy, “it’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon.” With 5 bad shows, 1 will be amazing. You just never know, so you keep on doing it because you love to do it. Simple. If the crowd is cold, and you feel it and react the same way back, people will feel that insecurity and rebel. To succeed and to get people to notice you, you have to give them the same energy and attitude with 5 people as you would with 5,000. It may not always work, but when it does, it’s euphoric. Besides, aren’t we just playing music because WE want to? The crowds' reaction may say more about them than you, which I felt I observed at The Hives.
This is all to say that Greg Lee was one of the few who seemed to make it work 100% of the time, at least when I saw him perform either in Hepcat or Western Standard Time. He’s the perfect example of what you put out is what you get in return and it is why music fans are mourning today. Someone truly special is gone and there is now a void. However, as sad as it is, I know I am not alone in being someone who was inspired by his boundless energy and good vibes. When I saw Hepcat in 1999, I knew that I wanted to convey that energy too and pay the happiness forward. There are many others who feel and do the same.
His spotlight may be gone, but now there’s room for others that he inspired to carry the torch. If nothing else, we at least still have the songs.
RIP.
(Hepcat on Conan back in 1999)
(Always Kal-El)
Thanks for writing this. Hepcat were a revelation to me in the late 90s - I generally hated what passed for ska in those days, and couldn’t believe how close those guys got to the legit 60s Jamaican sound, both on record and onstage. I wound up interviewing Greg a couple of times, for BAM and (I think) Option; sadly I appear to have misplaced those transcripts and features, but he was an absolutely lovely guy who was DEEP into the music he dug, and he had a lightness about him that was absolutely infectious. I don’t think we crossed paths since the Push and Shove album came out, but I am so saddened by the news of his passing. Rocksteady in Peace, Greg.