(for John Sinclair)<\/p>\n
I first met John Sinclair in the summer of 1998. Ronald Cornelissen and I, two artists from Rotterdam, had invited John to a program on the radical subculture and music scene of Detroit in the late 1960s and early 1970s that we were organising in our hometown that summer. We named the program \u2018I rip you, you rip me (Honey, we\u2019re going down in history)\u2019 after a line in the song \u2018Death Trip\u2019 by Iggy & The Stooges. John, former manager of Detroit\u2019s MC5 and chairman of The White Panther Party, came over from New Orleans to take part in a symposium, do a performance, introduce a film screening and install an exhibition of photographs and ephemera of the period together with his ex-wife Leni Sinclair. Book Beat\u2019s Cary Loren, our main contact during the preparations of the program, had suggested we invite Leni for the exhibition. Her photo archive, he told us, would be a fantastic source for the show. With the exception of Niagara, the original line-up of Cary\u2019s own 1970s band Destroy All Monsters also came over to Rotterdam to take part in the program. Rotterdam, of all places, was where some of Detroit\u2019s finest freaks met for the first time.<\/p>\n
In his speech at the Memorial for John Sinclair in Detroit on 9 April 2024, Cary told how John reacted when Ronald and I picked him up from Schiphol airport in 1998 and welcomed him on his first trip to Europe with a joint of the strongest strain of weed that we had been able to find. But listening to Cary and the other speakers as they showered John\u2019s casket with tributes and salutes during the Memorial\u2019s livestream, another story came to mind. I once asked John if he had ever met Captain Beefheart. He said he had. If I remember correctly, at a dinner that had been organised in honour of the Captain and his band around the time of their 1972 album \u2018Clear Spot\u2019. John said he had been sitting next to the Captain, while they were waiting for dinner to be served and that he had wanted to start a conversation with his neighbour by politely inquiring how he was. Captain Beefheart – according to John tripping heavily on acid – had answered he was fine, but had added with a bewildered look on his face and his arms outstretched as if he was trying to grasp the situation: \u2018But why the plates\u2026?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Why the casket\u2026?\u2019, I couldn\u2019t help thinking during the Memorial\u2019s livestream and imagined that John was smiling with me at the flippancy of the thought. John and I shared many a laugh over the years. We got along just fine. After \u2018I rip you, you rip me\u2019 we did several small projects together and I saw him practically each time he had returned to The Netherlands and had set up office behind his laptop and espresso at the 420 Caf\u00e9 in Amsterdam. John loved The Netherlands. Rotterdam in particular. I was happy to introduce him to William Levy, former Dutch Provo leader Roel van Duijn, The Soft Machine\u2019s Hugh Hopper, Eddie Woods, Cameron Jamie and a number of other artists, but John hardly needed introduction. I was amazed to see how fast he built a network of friends and fans in Europe – some cannabis related, some music and poetry related, others from a political background. It took him all over the EU in the two decades following \u2018I rip you\u2019. Everywhere he went, he broadcast shows on his own Radio Free Amsterdam and, living hand to mouth, somehow managed to survive.<\/p>\n
\u2018I rip you, you rip me\u2019 spawned many friendships, collaborations, publications and releases. One of the people that John met in the course of the program, was guitarist and vocalist Mark Ritsema from Rotterdam. Mark and John performed together in subsequent years and recorded their CD \u2018Criss Cross\u2019 in 2005. Now that John\u2019s last performance took place in Paris in February 2024, the CD\u2019s track \u2018April in Paris\u2019, strangely enough, makes a fitting salute. Farewell, dear John. I missed you in Paris. I\u2019ll catch up with you later.<\/p>\n
Ben Schot
\nRotterdam, 16 April 2024.<\/p>\n