February 27 2009
First of all, Frederick Rothbell-Mista is my motherfucking brother.
(And I mean absolutely no disrespect to my biological brother who I love like a divine being, or my mother who might take offense at such language. But at this moment…)
I must pay homage to my friend who held no bars when it came to language, propriety, or other social, uh, norms…
Fred passed away this week after struggling for months with cancer. In the end his battle was arduous, but his life brought inspiration and joy to so many who came into contact with this exceptional individual.
Fred lived by his own rules and refused to abide by the standards of society. Yet, he was a socialite of the highest order and the eccentric jester of many courts. He lived under the radar and on the front page. He was best friends with America’s oldest money and her newest dirtbags. I hope he wouldn’t mind me saying it, but to be completely honest, he was smoking crack and dining on lobster to the very end.
I love Fred. And I’m not alone.
His major accomplishments seem to be his very life experience. In his short time on this Earth, a few of the experiences he collected include graduating from Harvard, working for Salvador Dalí, managing certain exclusive rooms at the Limelight (and other clubs in NYC), assuming the persona of lounge singer, Rocco Primavera, writing a column for The Village Voice (for 10+ years?), and opening a small club of his own in the East Village called Apocalypse Lounge in 2004 - one of the few venues / bars to maintain the spirit of that wild neighborhood in it’s post-gentrified days.
This latter chapter is where my relationship with with Fred began. I must admit that the full scope of our relationship took years to dawn on me - mostly we smoked a lot of weed. But when the shit hit the fan, Fred was there for me like a superhero. I was truly surprised by the sensitivity this old cynical queen showed me in my dark hours. Truly, we had been through a lot by the time I was dealt tragedy in my own life. I’d worked for him for years and he was probably the worst boss I’ve ever had, and I had some shitty jobs, yet Fred came through for me in a way I can’t really express. Even in the last few months, when I was helping him get to doctors’ appointments he couldn’t have made on his own - he was asking me how I was.
I can’t pretend this man was perfect, or even moral, but he never pretended to be. He was true to himself and the people in his life. He was true to me - and that’s the only way I know how to judge him.
Peace for Frederick.
I really like this picture of Fred as Rocco Primavera and the New Jersey Nigh n’ Gales cause he looks a lot cooler than anytime I ever saw him.
We love you, Fred.
These pictures are from earlier this week at our first European show of this year in Brussels. We had an excellent time at the beautiful venue, La Botanique - though I hate to report that we were immediately robbed upon entering the city. About an hour before we went on stage, our tour manager’s van was broken into, and he lost a couple of helpful gadgets. Bummer!! But he’s a good guy, and he didn’t let it get him down, and we had fun at the show anyway.
