spencer gates, rip.

I met spencer gates when she started working as a publicist at matador records in the early ’90s. I was still at spin, but she knew that chickfactor was what I was about. we spent many evenings during the clinton era gabbing and gossiping over red wine (hers with a diet coke chaser, please) and snacks (in her case, always roast chicken and potatoes). spencer was outrageously socially masterful. she had the gift. she would never say, “gail, this is jim.” she would say “gail, this is jim from the amazingly awesome band the cream puffs.” spencer’s charm was irresistible, even to some journalists and editors, who don’t easily melt when publicists come a-calling. of course, spencer was so much more than a publicist. she was a music lover. she was a social butterfly in the very best way. she was in charge. I always used to marvel at her ability to make everyone feel so damn taken care of, even when she maybe wasn’t. she was generous and lovely and most of all fun. I didn’t know her back when she was one of the “mystery girls” on the radio, but she spoke fondly of those days and was still friends with the gang. she helped countless musicians get more famous and she seriously loved music more than anything. she died on sunday morning after a battle with breast cancer. we miss you, lady talkalot. here is her obit in a cambridge paper and gerard put something on the matador blog here.