© LauraH
 | Nathan Davis 1976-2006 |
Paddy's Eulogy
My name is Paddy Gibney and Nathan Davis told me that I was a musician.
“Show me the company you keep and I’ll tell you who you are.” That’s an old Irish saying and a true one. It’s unfair to judge a person by their family because we have no choice in that matter. We do, however, have a choice when it comes to our friends. It’s obvious, not least from this gathering, that Nathan Davis was loved very much. He was of course doubly blessed when you consider his wonderful parents who he talked about often, wrote about and who are here with us tonight.
Bill Ayerbe and I have been performing live music for almost nine years and we have known Nathan Davis for most of those years. We’ve played the same places, shared the same dreams, drove along the same lonely roads, and once in a while we got together for a beer or three if, for nothing else, just to make sure we weren’t seeing each others’ girlfriends without realizing it. Seriously though, we enjoyed those moments away from a stage. It was a chance to catch up and take stock of where we were and where we were going. It was a time for feedback and coming clean around members of the same gang, the same breed. Often Nate would call me from the road at five or six in the morning knowing well that there was at least one other lunatic awake at that time. We kept each other awake on many such nights with our bullshit stories and delusions of grandeur. I never remember talking to Nathan without us both laughing. Of course, we were laughing at ourselves most of the time.
Nathan knew he could be difficult. All great artists are. He told me once that he could really relate to the song “I’m an asshole.” I told him that it was a sign of growth when you can be honest with yourself. Then he told me, “I was thinking about you”! And that was how it was most of the time, we laughed. We also made plans, lots of plans. Plans for dinner, plans to play together, and plans to write together. Three weeks ago in Charleston, SC, Nate came to our hotel room after we’d finished our respective gigs. We had just finished a two night stint down there and we were heading home the next morning. He asked us to stay and play with him the following night. We turned him down due to prior arrangements Bill and I both had made. I believe we will regret that decision for a very long time to come.
But Nathan wasn’t about regrets. There were many faces, many colors, and many levels to him. I told him once that overall we considered him a nice bunch of guys. He got a great kick out of that. I won’t tell you what he called me most of the time but, I think I can hear him whispering it to me right now.
Nathan was not a religious man. He was something far greater. He was a deeply spiritual man. Listen to his music! I believe he is now at home with the Source of that Great Spirit. There is no way God blesses a man like Nathan Davis with that kind of talent without welcoming him home with open arms. I take great comfort in that knowledge personally. I also take great comfort in the belief Nathan had in me as a musician. It’s only now that I feel comfortable calling myself one. Nathan has inspired me to become a better musician. His life and passing have inspired me to become a better man.
I want to thank you all for allowing me to speak here tonight. I especially want to thank Dave and Sally Davis for the gift of their son. His is a great light and, through his music, it will never be extinguished. Thank you.
PADDY GIBNEY
August, 2006.