John Gorka

When I was about 20, I'd never heard live music, was thinking of it, and when my friend Curry was watching Crook and Chase, a non-country, very folk singer dressed a lot like me came out.  And was in Ottawa the following week.  So John Gorka was my first live music act.  He was very nervous and covered it by Steven Wright-style jokes and clowning.  His songs were sometimes profound, sometimes beautiful and sad, and sometimes hilarious.

  I mailed him some lyrics of mine, and he kindly and politely sent me a postcard with Jack Kerouac on it, and told me he thought I should keep it up.

  I made a point of seeing him twice more when in the States visiting friends.  Had a brief conversation with him at each show, but never really was able to convey that seeing him do music made me feel like I could do music.  Funny, beautiful, dark, whatever.  In a baritone voice.  With a shy, quiet, bearded personality altogether lacking in showmanship.

  Was taking a walk in the dark last week when I needed to, and walked by a poster saying he was going to be in town (from Minnesota?!) yesterday.  So I went.  It was amazing.  He was nervous, suffering from a cold, and covering up a lot with his clowning and surreal humour.  ("I'm opening a self-amusement park.  You can come it you like... but you'll be on your own."  "I've chosen three introductory songs.  I'm doing to play them later, though.  I don't like to rush things.")

  And afterward we had a good conversation, in which I was able to explain a bit of how influencial and encouraging he'd been.  So tonight, feeling a bit alone and at loose ends while the rest of the world goes in with living lives, I attempted a song of John Gorka's which I've always loved, but which has no chords online, and which I'd never learned.  I figured it out and just pressed record.  The somewhat uneven result is here.
  The man playing his own song the way it should be played is more like this: