Preston Craig (and my vacant laptop) outside at Decatur Social Club ('04/'05)
About a month ago, I began putting together some thoughts about the pending departure of an important person in my life. As the weeks flew by, I foolishly thought that I’d see him prior to his move; but I sit here realizing it may not happen.
So instead, this becomes my ode to the road most traveled.
More than ten years ago, when I began to lay roots in Atlanta, I found myself desperate for an outlet for my social life. With no friends in town and little knowledge of anything outside of the Interstate system, I was clueless. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. So when the weekends rolled around, my entertainment was less than sufficient.
Circumventing meaningless details and jumping forward a few years, I had made a few friends and found a few places to hang out but I still hadn’t found a place where I felt like I truly fit. Music had come back as a larger part of my life but, during the time before social networking, I had little clue as to the where, who or how — outside of concert listings in Creative Loafing.
All of that changed when in 2003 (or was it 2002?), I first stumbled into Lenny’s (the old location on Memorial) one Friday night. I had seen a flier for KISS rock parties, and on a whim, ventured out alone. I’ll never forget walking into this seedy dive bar and hearing “Intelligence” by …Trail of Dead blaring through the speakers. It was a watershed moment in my life, one that I recognized immediately.
The deejay that night was Preston Craig; KISS was his event. I didn’t know him and didn’t meet him that night. But the next week, I was back — mingling among the indigents, gutter punks and hipsters. I’d have a few PBRs, smoke a few Camel Lights, and generally lean against a wall, post or barstool for most of the night.
I was introduced to Preston a number of times — and each time, it was a reintroduction. Anyone who knows Preston can tell you that if you aren’t female, it might take a while for him to remember your name.
Early in the night at Decatur Social Club circa 2006
During the next year or so, he and I got to know each other socially, as he’d be at a lot of the same events I’d be at, and we gradually stuck up a friendship. Throw in the advent of social networking, and by the time he moved his KISS rock party to its third venue, he and I had become good friends.
For the next several years, we were tight; hanging out, deejaying together around town, doing the normal shit two guys nearing 30 do. Some of the best memories of my life involve either giving him a hard time or trying to one-up him with an obscure song outside of Decatur Social Club. For someone who derives great passion from music, you couldn’t ask for a better partner in crime.
But, as it happens, life changes and you have to make adjustments. Work took over my life, and then I got married. Staying out ’til almost 6 a.m. was replaced by getting up before 6 a.m. When you’re on opposite schedules, it becomes easier not to make the effort you should to see your friends.
Here I sit a few day from Preston’s pending move to Brooklyn with his brother, knowing that the chances are slim that I’ll see him before he moves. If you know his story, you’ll understand why I wonder whether I’ll ever see my friend again.
Thankfully, this was the only time Preston kissed me (Elvis Is Dead - 2005)
So Preston, here’s a thank-you:
Thanks for years of good times, the indelible mark and difference you made in my life. I speak for the masses when I say that your nights were a “Cheers” for a lot of other people out there — all of whom were looking for a place where they fit in, an environment that felt natural.
And as a friend, I regret that I haven’t been around like I should have been, but your friendship means a great deal to me.
Here’s to the good times.
Update: I happy to say that I was able to make Preston’s last DJ gig before his move to Brooklyn. It’s amazing how fast three years as gone … and how it seemed like it had been only a week.
