Remembering Randy

A year ago today Randy VanWarmer lost his battle with leukemia. The Oklahomilist remembers him today with prayers, and maybe a bit later, he'll play a song or two.

It's a little embarrassing to admit that it wasn't until a few days ago that we realized that Randy had died. It's been several years since we talked or visited, but the expectation was that Randy would be there, at the high end of James Longstreet (Blvd., Ave., Drive?), offering a smile, a beer and a listen to new tunes he'd be working on with his songwriting partners in Nashville. It was only an accident that a brief notice of his death was sent to our in-box, and the sadness is as deep as if it had happened today.

Randy became a public figure in 1979 with the release of his single, "Just When I Needed You Most." One of those songs that epitomized the singer/songwriter-drive Seventies. Released on Bearsville Records, and featuring an autoharp solo played by John Sebastian (of Lovin' Spoonful fame), it soared to the top of the charts. Even today millions of aging Baby Boomers will declare that song to be either one of their favorites of all time, or their most despised. (Such is the price of a hit single). Some might consider Randy a one-hit wonder, but only in a most superficial sense. His songwriting career provided dozens of hits for other artists and took him into recording studios and publisher offices where he became friends with some of country and pop music's cream of the crop. Songs like "It Never Hurts to Hurt Sometimes" (Oak Ridge Boys) and "I'm in a Hurry (And Don't Know Why)" (Alabama) kept the revenue stream intact for Randy and his wife, Suzy. Wisely, they kept their lifestyle modest and understated. It didn't hurt that they themselves were modest and unassuming people, a personality combination that fit in well with the songwriting community on Nashville's Music Row.

The Oklahomilist met Randy in Nashville in 1987 thanks to a mutual friend, Bobby, who had played with Randy in Tulsa and in Ojai, CA., , and who was called upon frequently to contribute song ideas, keyboard skills on recordings, and vocal backup. Bobby and I had just polished off our first collaboration, a country tune that we were sure was a hit (but discovered it was merely a door-opener, but a door-opener is no small achievement). Sitting behind the recording console as legendary producer Tom Collins directed Randy through some backing vocals in the old RCA studios where Elvis once worked, a chastened Oklahomilist realized in awe and delight that he had much to learn. I shut my mouth, opened my ears and began taking the mental notes that would change my own studio operations and producing skills back home. The songs on his forthcoming album were incredible -- to this day I do not understand why it was not promoted more heavily. Collins was smart and funny and totally devoted to getting the best product possible. Randy was simply other-worldly. It was the first time I had heard a voice used in such a sublime manner, at least in my presence.

That was my introduction to RVW. Over the next few years I would see him several times a year, usually with Bobby. We'd eat buffalo wings at Pargos in Brentwood. We'd hash over lyrics to his songs, or our songs. We'd watch NFL football and Marx Brothers, discuss politics and religion, and even though I brought absolutely nothing to town in terms of anything Randy needed, he and Suzy were always gracious and hospitable. I learned more from Randy about dropping the silly pretentiousness of my rock n' roll upbringing, and adopting a work ethic more suited to my personality, than from anyone else in my musical life. I don't know if he realized how much of a role model he was for me. It wasn't the kind of thing we talked about. We were too busy cutting tracks in his basement studio on those infrequent visits, or evaluating material that Bobby and I had brought from Tulsa to pitch to various publishers. Randy was a reliable critic and friend. If he didn't like something, he told you and gave reasons. If he did like something, he told you and gave reasons.

Bobby spent considerably more time with him. They toured England and Japan together. (Randy was a big hit in England and was getting to be well known in the Japanese market.) They crafted a couple of albums of rock and country material. (And yes, I allowed myself a small jealous moment once or twice while they were away, but mostly I was just happy for Randy).

Events in my life caused me to abandon the music biz a few years ago. Perhaps there are songs out there that might one day be pulled from a file and "covered" by someone, and if that happens, it'll be fun for awhile. It was necessary for me to focus on those parts of my life that were most important: mainly my family and my faith. I found it difficult to stay in contact with my music friends -- it hurt less to put all of it out of my thoughts. After a couple of years I had no immediate cause to telephone or visit, and I did not wish to intrude my non-musicial persona into Randy's busy life, so I didn't.

Perhaps that was a mistake. While I doubt that Randy's quality of life was diminished by my absence, I know today that I will always regret not having a few more conversations with him. You always think you'll have the time to "catch up" with old friends, later on down the line. But sometimes the clock expires, the final gun sounds and you realize the ball was in your possession as the time was ticking away.

Sorry, Randy. May God grant you the peace of His Kingdom, and a opportunity to add your vocals to the angelic choirs. You were born for that.

RANDY VANWARMER

March 30, 1955 - January 12, 2004