Photo: Michael Putland/Getty Images
Photo: Ebet Roberts
When I found out during the horrific height of the Pandemic that one of the legendary guitarists from the beloved New York outfit Television lived close to me in Chattanooga, Tennessee, I was absolutely blown away. As a native of the Volunteer State, where legends like Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison, and David Berman once roamed, it was exciting to know that Richard Lloyd (Clyde McFettered, Marvin Gardens, Sam Albatross) was virtually living down the street from me. At the time, I worked for a terrible music merch company that will remain unknown; they were the “suing type,” and I was stunned to find the band on their roster of creative clients. In the back room, a small collection of T-shirts, stickers, and pins was stored in plastic pullout drawers, and at the very top of the shelf, in somewhat alphabetical order, the band’s 1977 masterpiece “Marquee Moon” in all its glory high above the concrete floor. Even the spine was noticeable from across the room. There was no sign of the group’s feverish follow-up “Adventure,” but we’ll forgive the business and their dysfunctional decisions. Of course, everyone knows the title track, the ten-minute meditation, but something spiritual and vast about the group’s overall lore and lyrical legacy surrounds the melodic mythos and vibrant vibe. Television wasn’t out there touring the planet, shoving their poetic product in your face, ears, and eyes constantly, like most of the bands I worked for at the time did, with no sense of self-respect or dignity. I suppose business is business, but a lot of times no one’s asking if you catch my drift. Their iconic identity remained silent in the storage shadows, awaiting an e-commerce order or a potential one-off show, or a radical residency somewhere in the concrete jungle. I always made sure their online store was zeroed out, and their stock was dusted and looked after like museum pieces built on melody, or an artistic altar patiently waiting for a sinner to kneel before its creative contents, seeking peace of mind after a lifetime of depravity.
“Someone called my style ‘sense of urgency’ guitar playing, and I’ve always admitted I often don’t know where I’m going when I solo. But that desperation is what makes it exciting.”
Television, and its members Tom Verlaine, Richard Lloyd, Fred Smith, and Billy Ficca, the only surviving member, remain embedded in the ultimate universe where energy meets esoterica and volume creatively collides with the highest degree of art possible. Yeah, they’re just a band at the end of the day, but are they? We won’t bore you with shit you already know about the band and its harmonious history, as this is more of a tribute to the late musician. Lloyd was diagnosed with bile duct cancer, cholangiocarcinoma, in the spring, launched a GoFundMe, which we’ll attach here for his family, in August, and was gone just a few months later. Having led such an intensely creative life, he was gone just like that. Lloyd came from a different time in history, evident throughout his career in Television, solo works, the early days of Rocket From The Tombs, and his many collaborations over the decades, but especially in his prolific philosophy on life and death. He’s a survivor whose time on this mortal coil was determined by something more powerful than scientific spirituality or the miracle of medicine. He guided his cosmic compass so beautifully and left behind something so profound. We’ll forever be grateful for his talent and raw vision for revolution in the arts. He was 75.
