I’m up way too late, and I decide to dial in some internet radio via iTunes to have some background noise, while I try to take care of a couple of things for work. As I’m typing away, I find one of the tunes that’s playing sounds interesting, so I pull up iTunes to see if there’s any information on the piece. Sure enough there is, and the name looks familiar to me, since it’s the same name as a guy I went to college with. A quick google search confirms that it is the guy I went to college with, and leads me to an interview with him.
Now, “the composer” is a bit of a pretenious fuck, and all of us who went to school with him have distanced ourselves from him over the years because of his “I’m the greatest” attitude, amongst other things. In scanning the interview with him, I find that not much has changed in his life, since I last spoke with him, but what I find most galling is that he doesn’t give any credit to a mutual friend of ours, who taught this asshole everything that he knows.
To make matters worse, this friend, Jim Irwin, died of AIDS nearly ten years ago, and “the composer” made off with some of Jim’s recordings after Jim died. I cannot believe what a weasel shit the composer is being! The best recordings that he ever made were with Jim being intimately involved in every step of the way. “The composer”, however, being the bastard that he is, screwed Jim out of everything. When I related to Jim that “the composer” had been offered a record deal after being on a local radio program, but turned it down because he didn’t like the terms of the deal, Jim was livid. It seems “the composer” never bothered to tell Jim about this (odd that, since Jim composed or helped compose the works that were played).
Of course, one could make the argument that Jim was just bullshitting, but having been present at several of the recording sessions with Jim and “the composer” and “the composer” always talked about how important it was that Jim was there. (I am somewhat musically inclined, and having been at the sessions, I can tell you that Jim played a vital role in every element of those sessions.)
Fuck you, you sonofabitch. Jim died impovershed, almost alone, and in the grips of AIDS dementia, and you’re getting fat off of his corpse. If I can help it, I’m going to find a way to fuck you back. Jim deserves better.