Since Rodney Lanier was diagnosed with esophageal cancer in September, the Sea of Cortez leader has learned he's much more than a songwriter and gifted multi-instrumentalist to an awful lot of people. It's too bad the extent of that appreciation comes with such shitty news, but such is human nature; our better angels like a good crisis.
Those angels will be out in force at this Friday's fundraiser — Oso Grande: A Benefit for Rodney Lanier — held at the Chop Shop in NoDa, where they'll offer tangible evidence of The Big Bear's place in people's hearts and his long-standing importance to Charlotte's music community. (All proceeds go The Rodney Lanier Support Trust to help defray medical costs and lost income during his continuing treatment; a second multi-venue benefit is planned for early 2012, when the bills really begin to pile up.) In addition to Lanier's Sea of Cortez, the bill features Benji Hughes, the Houstons and Temperance League and the first full reunion in eight years of the Sire-signed roots-rock act Jolene.
The affable 44-year-old, whom many know as the doorman at The Evening Muse, has started early radiation treatment, and chemotherapy follows in November. But the diagnosis puts a fine point on the things that matter.
"The outpouring of people who want to help is very heartwarming. It's very kind of everybody," says Lanier, who's never been a grab-the-spotlight kind of guy. "It makes you realize how good your life was — you realize you've never really had a problem, all the fucked-up relationship things, money, crappy jobs. Not to trivialize them, they're real, and they happen, but I probably put a little more worry into that shit than I needed to. I hope people see that, I hope people understand that."
Lanier concedes "this isn't the show I'd like to be playing." But creating and playing music have always provided outlets, now more than ever. One measure of the esteem his fellow musicians hold Lanier in is a CV that runs from his '90s contemporaries through some of Charlotte's brightest young acts. In addition to Sea of Cortez's sublime 2009 release, Sur & the Sword, Lanier's been an official member of, or added his multi-instrumental talents to, Fence Lions, Gold Coast, Pyramid, Hard Times Family, Lodestar, gogoPilot, the Virginia Reel, Elonzo and Sunshone Still, among others.
It was in Jolene that Lanier first made his mark. After playing in the usual start-up bands, Lanier was a last-minute fill-in as Jolene's guitar tech on a shed tour for the band's debut, Hell's Half Acre. He added acoustic guitar to a few songs, too, and by the end of the tour became Jolene's multi-instrumentalist on keys, lap-steel and accordion.
It was during a trip to Baja California with his Jolene bandmates in '99 that Lanier first formed the idea of the dusky-noir instrumental outfit that emerged with Sea Of Cortez in 2003. His SoC bandmates cite as his best leadership trait the ability to not act like a leader, but it's more than just his musical skills that make them fond of him. Bassist Chris Lonon recalls a time when Lanier found a bandmate's cell phone and left messages with a host of guitar-teacher-for-hire ads in this paper asking for immediate lessons at any cost. Drummer Chris Walldorf cited a recent band practice where Lanier jerry-rigged a shaker for him out of an old Miracle Whip jar full of dried rice.
"It was from like 1978 and in pristine condition," Walldorf says. "It conjured up images of Roger Staubach and men spitting tobacco juice in campfires. I have no idea why it was in his house, and when I asked him, he just kind of shrugged it off. It was the coolest shaker I've ever played."
These are just some of the anecdotes received while reporting this story. No wonder, then, that the Charlotte music community came together so quickly to offer what help they can. That points to something people should remember — a benefit's benefit is measured in more than dollars and cents.
Shayne Miel, frontman for the Durham-based folk-rockers Future Kings of Nowhere, was diagnosed in 2009 with Stage 4B non-Hodgkin's B-cell lymphoma. Miel was the beneficiary of a Durham fundraiser — This Machine Kills Cancer — held in his honor in June 2010. He's now in complete remission, and credits the benefit with allowing him to focus on getting better instead of worrying about medical bills and douchebag collection agencies.
"Even more important, though, was the encouragement I received from the outpouring of love and support that day," he says. "As I moved into the scariest part of my treatment, I was able to imagine that I had an army of people at my back, cheering me on. It gave me the strength to keep fighting until I eventually won."
More thoughts on Rodney Lanier
"Long before we shared a stage together, we shared a ride to work back in 2002/2003. For a while, we lived in the same building on Louise Avenue (he helped get me the apartment) and then I moved right across the street. We both worked at a screen-print shop that opened everyday at 9 a.m. We usually got there around 10:28. Just 10 sputtering miles down I-77 South to Arrowood Road in his tiny, damp car with lots of missing knobs, important paperwork on the floor and random wires sticking out all over. It smelled like coffee and peanuts. Most days we'd split for lunch around 1 p.m. to a drab taqueria on South Blvd. Eat chips and salsa, awesome cheap wet burritos, and flirt with the waitresses. It was during these rides that he hatched the idea for having an all-instrumental band led by me and him on slide guitar and pedal steel. We'd play originals and weird old standards (as heard daily on our commute and at work on our favorite, now defunct, Charlotte radio station, WMNX, Mix 106.1 FM). The band started soon afterwards and it's still around. I'm not on-stage with Sea of Cortez these days, but I like to think that an image of me frowning still pops into Rodney's head every time he hits a bad note. If it doesn't, it will now. Oh, and one day, we were super late for work because somebody stole his car battery. Popped his hood in the night and took it. That was the only time I saw him get slightly perturbed." — Tyler Baum, ex-Sea of Cortez
"Rodney is a stellar steel player, an all-around sweet dude and it's always a nice to run into him outside the Evening Muse." — Neil Allen, the Virginia Reel
"Rodney enjoys being ridiculous, but only in ways you would not expect. For example, at the Muse one night he paid me $27.23, mostly in loose change. Why/how he arrived at 23 cents from the door I'll never know, but later he said he was just fucking with me. He's also ridiculously talented, and truly elevates any band that's lucky enough to have him. He's a rare bird in the music talent pool, as he excels at bringing a unique soundscape/atmosphere without calling attention to himself." — Jay Garrigan of
Poprocket and Garrigan
"Everyone knows of Rodney's penchant for Mexican and Spanish foods. One brisk autumn afternoon a few years back (seems like it was close to Thanksgiving) Fence Lions were rehearsing at Rodney's house. We took a smoke break out on the porch and found Rodney's new neighbors boiling something in an industrial-sized oil drum in their front yard. The Latino fellas were friendly and invited us to join them. One of the neighbors stuck his callused finger-tips into the cauldron and pulled out a sample. Rodney was the only one of us to accept. We thanked the three men and went back to our practicing. Later I asked Rodney how the strange looking meat tasted. He said it was good, but that he was pretty sure 'they were stirring that pot with a piece of my house.'" — Bruce Hazel of Temperance League
"In the studio recording with Fence Lions, while Vance (Carlisle) was recording his guitar parts, Rodney found Vance's cell phone and used it to call every ad in the back of Creative Loafing — posing as Vance — to ask for immediate emergency guitar lessons. He left messages stating that if it was at all possible please call back that day and Vance would pay for them to come down to the studio ASAP, as he was desperately in need of an emergency lesson!" — Chris Lonon of Sea of Cortez and the Houstons
"Not sure if it's my favorite Rodney anecdote, but it's my most recent favorite. We were having Sea of Cortez practice at Rodney's and there's a tune that I play a shaker on from beginning to end. I'd left mine at home so Rodney disappeared into the kitchen and came back with an empty Miracle Whip jar full of dried rice — a pretty standard old drummer's trick, but what was amazing was the jar. It was from like 1978 and in pristine condition. It was from a time when mayonnaise was great. It conjured up images of Roger Staubach and men spitting tobacco juice in campfires. I have no idea why it was in his house, and when I asked him he just kind of shrugged it off. It was the coolest shaker I've ever played." — Chris Walldorf of Sea of Cortez
"Rodney is one of the most genuine, loving and funny people you could ever hope to meet. He is talented beyond belief and has an uncanny ability to make you a better musician at the same time. He is soft-spoken and old school as hell, but with one of the biggest, youngest hearts around. He is our Rodney Bear." — Vance Carlisle, ex-Gold Coast
