Today marks the 11th year that Rainer has been gone.
Time sure does fly.

We're working on a c'd  of  some amazing songs that Rainer recorded with John Convertino and Joey Burns of Calexico that they recorded here in Tucson while Rainer was in remission in 1996. We'll keep you posted on a release date.

Thank you all for keeping Rainer's music and spirit alive all over the world. He missed out on the whole cyber phenomenon but I think he would have really gotten a kick out of it.

Lots of love to all of you.

Patti

11-12-08

Being back in the same room, at the same studio, to listen back to all the running tapes from Rainers last session was a supernatural experience. Like we were all there againwith rainer just beyond the glass.

It took 3 years to feel ready for the task. And then, surprisingly, another year to get through it and finish. Not because we worked on it every day, but because of the underlying shock effect of it all i sappose. It was as uplifting as it was difficult to put up with such missingness there in the shadow of rejoice hearing him be there again.

Looking back on it now, it seemed we made a science out of seance.

Example: Rainer would get done with a take and talk with us on tape as he had four years ago. You would find yourself with the knee jerk reaction of looking out through the studio glass to see him playing. The angle of the glass caused a reflection from the lights and made it difficult to see through. And as you catch yourself  looking for him there, his voice would crackle from the tape and say things like "I cant see you through the glass".

Another time ha asked us what time it is... Harvey and I looked at each other for a moment, barely hearing us mutter to him off mic from four years ago. So he repeats it then to us now on mic so clear "7:30.... ok thanks". And we slowly look up at the clock in the room now to see it read exactly 7:30.

What the session is, was the sound of a man poised on the brink. He knew he was going to die. It was a matter of days. He put in four days of recording spread over a couple of weeks, until his brain could not make sence enough to go on. This final music delivered by a sacred staddle of a man perched on the precipice.

It was a long goodbye way too short.

-Howe.

We had just opened Epic cafe, we'd only been open for a month. I was by myself at the end of some fourteen hour day, and this guy walks in. Im washing dishes and he's watching me, and I turn around and say, " Hi, can I help you?"And he says, "Yeah, I was wondering if  I could play guitar here."Im tired, and i've never seen this guy before, and I say sort of magnanimously, sure...when ever you want."He says, "Alright. Can I just set it up for this friday or something?""Yeah sure," I tell him."Just bring whatever you need and play guitar. Whats your name?"

"Rainer."

"Okay, Rainer, we'll see you on friday."So, I go back to washing dishes. this is maybe monday or tuesday. Then people start calling: "Hey, is it true Rainers playing on friday?" And I try and remember, and tell them that yeah I guess its true. "What time is he playing?" I think I told him 8:p.m. "Whats the cover?" Surprised, I tell them theres no cover."You just come on in," I say with no idea of what I'm in for. Next thing I know, it's friday... and were packed. It's completely packed. He was going to play two days, a friday and a saterday. We had just opened, and it was only my partner and I - we didnt have any employees or anything. The next day, the daily paper had an article on Rainer, and how he'd played at our cafe`. It put us on the map.

He knew, and later he knew that I knew that he helped me out a lot by playing his music here. In responce, he would always say, " Well, one day maybe you'll give me a cappuccino." The master of understatement. So he would ride by - he rode his bike everywhere - and i'd be sweeping the sidewalk, and i'd yell, "Rainer! come in for your free cappuccino!" He was almost passed by the time he heard me, but he'd stop and come in, and have a cappuccino. He wasn't a regular, but whenever I could snag him off his bicycle, he'd come in. That was nice. He was a real character.

He was so soft spoken, about every thing he did. Just like he was at that first introduction: 'hey, can i play guitar?" After that first time, he would call often and ask if he could play, and I would say, "of course you can play." He played at epic about half a dozen times over a couple of years.

One time I asked him, "is it true you played with that band GIANT SAND ?" He said, smiling, "I started that band"

This other gentleman I used to do business with - he was counting heads, telling me how much money I could make off rainer if I charged five buck a head. And I was looking at Rainer, who had such a... positive energy...and how he just gave his music away, to whoever wanted to listen. It wasnt something you'd want to charge. What you were getting, this music, was such a gift. He was just that way. very willing to give, and to share.

Before this last time he played, he said casually, "it's going to be a little bit bigger than normal".

Coming from Rainer, I thought "oh no, what does that mean?" I didnt know if we could handle bigger than normal. There was camera crews there (Arizona Illustated, on local KUAT-TV channel 6, taped that performance for broadcast): and in fact it was... bigger. But he was exactly the same.

Normal capacity is 45 people. It was easilt twice that whenever he played. And on that night, there were people lined up out side, pressed up against the windows, on the sidewalk. I couldnt see outside; once you were inside, you couldnt get outside. But when I saw the film of that concert, I could see people on the curb. It was amazing. I didnt even know there were all those people out there.

That was the last time I saw him. I shook his hand, he bought some things for his family, I wished him good luck. He looked strong, full of life. The next thing I heard, he 'd passed away. I have such a clear image of him riding his bike. It was this sort of rickety old bike. I can see what he looked like, what he was wearing, what kind of day he was having. It's hard to believe he's no longer with us. 

-Jack Green; co-owner of epic cafe`   '97