There is no getting around the fact that, for a while, my posting will be more than somewhat personal. Loss affects things, and while there is much to do, I frequently stumble. There is a prevailing sentiment - maybe primarily in the West? - for marking the anniversaries of those we have lost, when we have lost them. I never, ever felt compelled to observe in that manner. In a public space, however, I must do what I must. I stumble forward…
Like Harry in the above pose, I was sitting on a couch in the apartment I shared with fellow ensemble member Randy Hoffman when the phone rang. On September 3, 1974, Danlee Mitchell called to let us know that Harry had died. I had last seen Partch a couple of weeks before, knowing he was frail but never figuring this was coming. Then again, I was only 22 (by one day, meaning I never forget this date) and had not the cavalcade of loss I have now accrued. The news struck me like a Louisville Slugger, and then I had to wait to tell Randy.
You do the math: it has been FIFTY YEARS today. What I am left with, currently, are a lot of lines converging and elements coalescing. I lost my prime connection to all this with Danlee Mitchell’s recent passing; one thing I’ll have to do is drop the editorial we from now on. It is time to re-order the juggernaut of chaos, the legacy that Harry left us. Since this is a personal post, I am referring to Harry, as I knew him, worked with him, and aided him. I realize others who never met him speak as personally of him in this regard. Sad.
So this is it: the saddest anniversary one can have is that of the leaving. Only one marking option that would allow me peace came to mind: to tie it into sharing a bit of Partch’s music, some of his most personal work. To honor Harry Partch on a golden day of absence, I have added to the Audio/Visual section a live recording from 1976 of U.S. Highball, performed by the Harry Partch Ensemble of San Diego… many of whom knew or at least had met Partch. You’ll find more typing and information over there, but I hope you can thank Harry, in your way, for having the balls to get through a life of art and strife and loneliness and commitment to his cause. Art drawn from life, art affirming life. Death can take a walk.
~ Jon Szanto