Many years ago, an early Spring evening, it was cold and crisp like today, I met one of my twins, we were born the same year, same month and same date. His name was Reid.
I walked into a neighbourhood café in Chicago, ordered myself a bottomless coffee and an Indonesian vegetarian plate. I was a chain smoker, heavy coffee drinker and vegetarian back then, perfect combination right? Like any other nights, the café was packed, some local musicians were playing. I opened my notebook and a folded San Francisco Weekly, as I was in the midst of moving to San Francisco, this was the night to circle out the potential future apartments. Chicago is a great city but up until then it just gave me such a uncanny feeling of coldness, probably a bit too dark for my taste. My stay in the city was way too short to allow me to really feel anything.
Musicians were not bad, they played mostly folk and country stuff, several of them went up and down the little corner stage of the café. I was still concentrating on my own affaires until I heard this voice, rather original, low and strong, accompanied by an acoustic guitar, the songs were kind of like Palace Brothers meet Elliot Smith. Pop yet folky, or I should say a bit sadcore. He kept on playing and people just cheered on; apparently he was also a waiter in the café. Friends and fans packed half of the café.
I don’t remember if it was because of his songs or simply I had lots of work to do, I stayed until closing and actually got to talk to him for a few minutes as he was cleaning up.
“I loved your songs,” big smile, me.
“Thanks, do you play the guitar as well?”
“hum, I wish I could…” I really wish I could, any instrument really, “ I don’t think I have talent for music …”
Conversation went on, somehow we realised we were both Pisces and born on the same day, February 20th. Wow, so he was my twin from the other continent, I finally met him. Reid, meaning red haired, however, that did not describe him at all physically; he was more dark haired slightly barding and always had a coffee mug in his hand.
He said he would teach me guitar, I couldn’t be happier and was curious to find out about my new “twin brother”.
2 weeks, 3 guitar lessons and four cords after, I had to pack up for San Francisco. I was memorized by how similar we were and did not know what to think. At the last lesson, Reid played a new song he just wrote, called “San Francisco”, and then he gave me home work to do: “write a song with 3 cords!” He said that if I weren’t to write songs, there was no point learning how to play the guitar. What a harsh professor! He also said that the best songs ever written only used 3 cords, I had 4 to choose from.
Months later, I was in San Francisco, I wrote a song about a waitress in mini skirt working in a sushi bar falling in love with a clown who made balloons for kids at the union square. The 3 cords were: A minor, E minor and C major, probably extremely romantic yet horrible to listen to. Reid wrote me a postcard saying that I needed to stock my fridge with beers and my drawers with gummy bears because he was coming to visit me soon.
Few years later, I moved again, he never came, and I never wrote another song…
Maybe I left San Francisco too soon, or maybe he never made it there. If he is reading this blog, his twin sister is now in Paris now, he better write a new song for Paris…
I think about this encounter from time to time, it is so hazy and dreamy that I am not sure if Reid really existed. Sometimes I wonder how many twin brothers and twin sisters I have on this planet and how many of them I will actually have the chance to meet in this life time. Am I allowed to see them again if I lose sight of them completely?
