WHEN THE GOOD GUYS WIN

I’ve got some good news for you. 

Good news is in exceedingly short supply these days, isn’t it? It’s practically unobtainium, in fact. I’m 100% certain you didn’t need me to tell you that, because you’re an informed, sentient human, raised to try to do the right thing and care about other people. I’m one, too. And it’s been exhausting and disheartening, these years and years of seeing people like you and me suffer under the actions of a handful of old men (and they are almost always old men, aren’t they?) who have had the empathy-shaped holes in their souls filled in by money and power, like lumps of cold solder. It’s dismaying in ways that will wear you down and numb you if you’re not mindful, to the point that, when a truly mind bogglingly egregious thing occurs, it shakes you out of a stupor you were barely aware you were in and throws a harsh spotlight on all the stuff you had been dissociating yourself from and it all comes flooding in and it’s a whole thing and it breaks your heart all over again. 

Just me? 

Nah, I doubt it. 

Anyway, I got off topic. That’s not what I opened up the laptop to write about. Like I said- I’ve got some good news, and it hit me like a shot of badly-needed B12. 

I have a dear friend named Jack Piatt. Those who know me have seen and heard that name pop up a lot over the years. Jack and I grew up about 25-or-so minutes apart, in the Ohio cornfields of Preble and Miami Counties, respectively. We didn’t actually meet until our 20s, though, when his Uncle George (a mensch in his own right) brought him to Canal Street Tavern one evening in the late 90s to see my band Shrug play. I had no inkling at the time how much the course of my life changed that night.    

Since that night, Jack has been a constant champion of my music. He’s believed in me even in the times when I didn’t, he’s spoken my name in more rooms than I’ll ever know, and damn near every cool opportunity that has come my way since I moved to California has been, directly or indirectly, a result of Jack’s doing. He’s never failed to deliver the goods on something he’s told me about and, as a result, I’d follow Jack into Hell.

He’s a gifted poet, writer, and filmmaker, but above all, I’d call Jack a professional Lifter. He lifts people up. He’s a kind, thoughtful, honest person, who truly cares about folks. He got me back in the habit of saying “you’re welcome” instead of “sure thing” or “no problem” when someone thanks me for something; an acknowledgement that, instead of brushing off the transaction, says, “Yes, I did you a service, and I was happy to, and I’d do it again.”  It’s a subtle distinction, but a real one. A Real One, just like Jack

Last year, Jack helped produce a short film called The Singers. It’s based on a 19th-Century story by the Russian writer Ivan Turgenev, about a collection of down-on-their-luck societal misfits who have an impromptu singing contest in a bar. The Singers is a Caravaggio painting brought to life, beautifully shot by director Sam Davis, and the decision to cast the film entirely with actual singers, buskers, and performers with no professional acting experience was a creative gamble that paid off in spades. You really believe these folks, because…well…they’re real. I’ve seen it at least a half dozen times, in various forms, from rough cuts to the finished product, and I have laughed out loud and cried every single time. I told Jack after watching the first rough version how deeply moving it was, how it was something special, and the best thing he’s ever been involved in. 

Turns out I was not alone in this opinion because, after bagging 35 awards in 50 film festivals, The Singers won an Academy Award for Best Live Action Short Film (in an ultra-rare 2-way tie with Two Strangers Exchanging Saliva) this past Sunday. 

My man Jack now has an Oscar, and I can’t fully express how over-the-moon proud I am of him and the whole cast and crew. There’s a lot of good left in the world, and we need to celebrate it, now more than ever.

The Singers is now streaming on Netflix. I urge you to do yourself and your sense of humanity a huge solid and check it out.

You’re welcome.