25th Century Quaker
2007-06-17 05:11:53 UTC
APPRECIATION
Mark Freeland: A Buffalo icon who lived for music
By Jeff Miers
Updated: 06/16/07 8:29 AM
http://www.buffalonews.com/entertainment/story/100082.html
Loading Image...
or - http://shorterlink.org/2571
“Miers. It’s Freeland. Call me.” Click. ....That was a few months
ago. I’d get these messages on my answering machine periodically from
Mark Freeland. He’d tell me what he liked that I’d written, what he
didn’t like, what he thought I might want to check out. He treated me
like an eager kid, which I really appreciated.
Freeland, who died Thursday after a lengthy battle with cancer, was
the kind of guy whose respect you craved, if you considered yourself
at all an artist.
He’d smile and say, “You’re almost there. But there are a few more
things you need to know.” That was always our cue to reprise the plan
that we’d made a few years earlier, to get together at Freeland’s
place so that he could walk me through his record collection.
“A lot of this stuff you have. But some of it you don’t,” he’d say,
and smile again — with enthusiasm and love for the whole game, never
in a condescending way.
We never did get together to work our way through Freeland’s piles of
vinyl, which to him represented a living history of rock ‘n’ roll.
Something always came up. I always felt privileged to have been
offered, though. I still do. In a sense, it meant I’d “made it” in
Buffalo.
Freeland died in his sleep with his soul mate, Carla Levorchick, by
his side. Those who knew him well feel an incredible loss. Freeland
was a major player in the Western New York music and art scenes. He
was the brains behind two popular Western New York bands — Pegasus and
Electroman.
Friends I spoke with almost unanimously referred to losing Freeland as
“a light going out.” The best way to remember him, however, is to
celebrate him. Freeland would not want to be mourned in the
traditional way. “The thing is, there was no one more positive than
Mark,” says longtime friend Bernie Kugel, who was part of the
late-’70s scene centered around McVan’s nightclub. “He was always
inspirational, and a tireless champion of the music scene here. He
should be remembered as an idol, a friend, Buffalo’s own David Bowie —
a musical icon. Mark had no ill will for anyone.”
He was well loved in Western New York’s underground arts community,
especially among friends like artist and musician John Simon, who
cared for Freeland around the clock in the weeks prior to his passing;
Goo Goo Dolls bassist Robby Takac; and musician Kent Weber, a friend
and bandmate from teen years on.
“He was beautiful, in a word,” says Mary Moser of West Seneca, who
first met Freeland when both were 16 year-olds attending Kenmore West
High School. “Mark was himself from the day he was born, if you know
what I mean. He was completely unique. I remember the first time I
brought him home to my house on the back of my motorcycle — my father
welcomed all my friends, openly. Mark walked in wearing jeans rolled
up to the knee, with striped knee socks on, superhigh platform heels,
and a pair of devil horns poking through that beautiful curly head of
hair. My father just shook his head and sighed!
“That was Mark — never a follower, always a leader, though he was
inspired by everyone and everything.”
Freeland’s legend goes deep. Many recall his early band, Pegasus, a
daring progressive rock group famed for its spot-on renditions of the
Genesis masterpiece “The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway,” which the group
would present in full theatrical mode. Freeland never became mired in
the past glories of progressive rock, however. He was on the cutting
edge of punk rock in Buffalo, just as he would later assimilate the
influences of electronica and even hip-hop in later years.
“Mark was smart enough to be able to play this incredibly complex
music, like ‘The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway’ or some super-long Jethro
Tull piece, but he was also smart enough to know when punk came along
that it was time to return to some of the primitive fury of real rock
’n’ roll,” says Kugel.
Conversely, Freeland was also smart enough to know that punk’s power
did not wash away the importance of the prog-rock pioneers he revered.
He realized that the best of these musicians were daring
individualists, musicians capable of blending hard-earned technique
with abundant imagination. Freeland did the same in his own art.
“Mark was the consummate example of the artist-as-individual,” says
Buffalo rock legend Terry Sullivan, who first met Freeland more than
30 years back, when the two were attending a gig that has attained
mythical status in Buffalo — a triple bill featuring the New York
Dolls, Mott the Hoople and a still wet behind the ears Aerosmith, in
Kleinhans Music Hall.
“Even then, Mark was a walking piece of art,” said Sullivan. “He never
stopped. He was like a spark plug, one that will never lose its spark.”
No, Freeland never lost that childlike excitement he had for music.
Even as he approached 50, he still tirelessly supported bands and
artists in Buffalo. A few years back, he called me to insist I go with
him to see musician Ray Roener’s Living In the Past, a spot-on Jethro
Tull tribute band. This led to a 30-minute discussion of our favorite
Tull albums, and the genius of that band’s guitarist, Martin Barre.
“These guys play this stuff absolutely perfectly, man!” Freeland
insisted. “If you don’t go with me, I’m gonna take it personally and
doubt how serious you are about music.” I went. Freeland was right.
“His gift to the art and music community here was that he made it OK
to be daring, to go for it, to really believe in yourself,” says
Moser. “He was the single most creative person I’ve ever known, and
ever will know.”
“As a musician and an artist, Mark was everywhere at once, both
physically and intellectually,” Sullivan recalls. “Now that he’s
passed, he really is everywhere. He’s still here. He always will be.”
Mark Freeland: A Buffalo icon who lived for music
By Jeff Miers
Updated: 06/16/07 8:29 AM
http://www.buffalonews.com/entertainment/story/100082.html
Loading Image...
or - http://shorterlink.org/2571
“Miers. It’s Freeland. Call me.” Click. ....That was a few months
ago. I’d get these messages on my answering machine periodically from
Mark Freeland. He’d tell me what he liked that I’d written, what he
didn’t like, what he thought I might want to check out. He treated me
like an eager kid, which I really appreciated.
Freeland, who died Thursday after a lengthy battle with cancer, was
the kind of guy whose respect you craved, if you considered yourself
at all an artist.
He’d smile and say, “You’re almost there. But there are a few more
things you need to know.” That was always our cue to reprise the plan
that we’d made a few years earlier, to get together at Freeland’s
place so that he could walk me through his record collection.
“A lot of this stuff you have. But some of it you don’t,” he’d say,
and smile again — with enthusiasm and love for the whole game, never
in a condescending way.
We never did get together to work our way through Freeland’s piles of
vinyl, which to him represented a living history of rock ‘n’ roll.
Something always came up. I always felt privileged to have been
offered, though. I still do. In a sense, it meant I’d “made it” in
Buffalo.
Freeland died in his sleep with his soul mate, Carla Levorchick, by
his side. Those who knew him well feel an incredible loss. Freeland
was a major player in the Western New York music and art scenes. He
was the brains behind two popular Western New York bands — Pegasus and
Electroman.
Friends I spoke with almost unanimously referred to losing Freeland as
“a light going out.” The best way to remember him, however, is to
celebrate him. Freeland would not want to be mourned in the
traditional way. “The thing is, there was no one more positive than
Mark,” says longtime friend Bernie Kugel, who was part of the
late-’70s scene centered around McVan’s nightclub. “He was always
inspirational, and a tireless champion of the music scene here. He
should be remembered as an idol, a friend, Buffalo’s own David Bowie —
a musical icon. Mark had no ill will for anyone.”
He was well loved in Western New York’s underground arts community,
especially among friends like artist and musician John Simon, who
cared for Freeland around the clock in the weeks prior to his passing;
Goo Goo Dolls bassist Robby Takac; and musician Kent Weber, a friend
and bandmate from teen years on.
“He was beautiful, in a word,” says Mary Moser of West Seneca, who
first met Freeland when both were 16 year-olds attending Kenmore West
High School. “Mark was himself from the day he was born, if you know
what I mean. He was completely unique. I remember the first time I
brought him home to my house on the back of my motorcycle — my father
welcomed all my friends, openly. Mark walked in wearing jeans rolled
up to the knee, with striped knee socks on, superhigh platform heels,
and a pair of devil horns poking through that beautiful curly head of
hair. My father just shook his head and sighed!
“That was Mark — never a follower, always a leader, though he was
inspired by everyone and everything.”
Freeland’s legend goes deep. Many recall his early band, Pegasus, a
daring progressive rock group famed for its spot-on renditions of the
Genesis masterpiece “The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway,” which the group
would present in full theatrical mode. Freeland never became mired in
the past glories of progressive rock, however. He was on the cutting
edge of punk rock in Buffalo, just as he would later assimilate the
influences of electronica and even hip-hop in later years.
“Mark was smart enough to be able to play this incredibly complex
music, like ‘The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway’ or some super-long Jethro
Tull piece, but he was also smart enough to know when punk came along
that it was time to return to some of the primitive fury of real rock
’n’ roll,” says Kugel.
Conversely, Freeland was also smart enough to know that punk’s power
did not wash away the importance of the prog-rock pioneers he revered.
He realized that the best of these musicians were daring
individualists, musicians capable of blending hard-earned technique
with abundant imagination. Freeland did the same in his own art.
“Mark was the consummate example of the artist-as-individual,” says
Buffalo rock legend Terry Sullivan, who first met Freeland more than
30 years back, when the two were attending a gig that has attained
mythical status in Buffalo — a triple bill featuring the New York
Dolls, Mott the Hoople and a still wet behind the ears Aerosmith, in
Kleinhans Music Hall.
“Even then, Mark was a walking piece of art,” said Sullivan. “He never
stopped. He was like a spark plug, one that will never lose its spark.”
No, Freeland never lost that childlike excitement he had for music.
Even as he approached 50, he still tirelessly supported bands and
artists in Buffalo. A few years back, he called me to insist I go with
him to see musician Ray Roener’s Living In the Past, a spot-on Jethro
Tull tribute band. This led to a 30-minute discussion of our favorite
Tull albums, and the genius of that band’s guitarist, Martin Barre.
“These guys play this stuff absolutely perfectly, man!” Freeland
insisted. “If you don’t go with me, I’m gonna take it personally and
doubt how serious you are about music.” I went. Freeland was right.
“His gift to the art and music community here was that he made it OK
to be daring, to go for it, to really believe in yourself,” says
Moser. “He was the single most creative person I’ve ever known, and
ever will know.”
“As a musician and an artist, Mark was everywhere at once, both
physically and intellectually,” Sullivan recalls. “Now that he’s
passed, he really is everywhere. He’s still here. He always will be.”
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