We asked the folks who played on the tribute album All These Things I Thought I Knew: A Tribute to LD Beghtol to share their memories about LD. The limited-edition cassette tape is out on Record Store Day (April 18) and the digital release is out April 24 (on Mother West Records).
LD Beghtol was a musician who played in Flare, Three Terrors, Mothwranglers, and sang on (and helped design) the Magnetic Fields’ 69 Love Songs, along with being a visual artist, graphic designer and critic for publications including chickfactor, Time Out New York, Oxford American, Village Voice, The Advocate and The Memphis Flyer. This tribute compilation started when LD passed away in December 2020, and his friends including Linda Smith and Flare bandmate/Mother West Records head Charles Newman started asking musicians LD cared deeply about to contribute.
It’s a different kind of tribute album — a tribute to a musician by other musicians who knew and/or worked with him. Where other tribute albums may contain versions of well-known songs covered by artists who did not personally know the songwriter, the songs of LD Beghtol are not well known. Those of us included on this album wish not only to remember a friend and collaborator, we also hope to make these witty and memorable songs better known to a world too long unaware. (Some text below is from the cassette artwork, while some of the artists shared new memories of LD with chickfactor for this post.)
1. “If / Then” – Jon DeRosa and Charles Newman
Charles Newman: LD and I made so much music together and played some great shows. I learned a lot from him about music, art and history. My connection with LD deeply shaped the art I make and the way I approach it. His influence will forever live on in my work.
Jon DeRosa: I first met LD when I responded to a message he posted on the NYC Indie Pop email list, searching for musicians to collaborate with and support him at an upcoming solo show. We met, and I picked up his songs and harmonies with ease. This was right around the time 69 Love Songs came out, and we performed some of the songs he sang on the album. He was enamored with my quick-to-learn musical talent and doe-eyed, youthful enthusiasm, and I was immediately charmed by his grandiose, warm and flattering demeanor.
We became fast friends. It seemed we were each what the other was looking for at that particular moment. He needed a protege, deft guitarist, smart, slightly insane, young enough and new-to-New York enough to not be jaded or entrenched in his own thing. And I needed an entryway into a larger creative world in a new city, as well as an elder friend to show me the ropes. I wasn’t yet 20, and while I’d been “on my own” a long time, I really knew very little about the real world.
Shortly after our first meet, LD invited me to join his band Flare. I accepted, and it was then that my musical world began to expand in amazing and exponential ways. So many of the composition theories I was studying by day at NYU became put to good use in the studio at night. I felt appreciated there, amongst a very talented cast of characters and world class musicians. Some of them would become lifelong friends.
LD and I were inseparable for many years, as I was glad to play the role of trusty sidekick. My fondest memories of my twenties were hanging out with him and Stephin (Merritt) and Dudley (Klute) at Dick’s or The Phoenix, or our chats at Veselka or any number of diners throughout the city. We never seemed to run out of things to talk about. It’s true LD was always at his best holding court and educating the “noob,” as he was so generous with his knowledge, but he was also very enthusiastic about hearing new music and things that I was bringing to the table as well. We had a very dear friendship, and he even joined me at family holidays in New Jersey from time to time, where he was adored by my family.
In 1999, we became roommates and were among the first of the new wave to live at the then-distant and very industrial Morgan Ave stop in Bushwick. It was a giant two-bedroom railroad, down the street from the Boar’s Head factory and above what was then a plumbing supply shop that hadn’t been lived in for several decades. Wild dogs still roamed the streets at night, but the rent was unbeatable. An even tradeoff. I recall many humorous instances of LD — always the nudist at home — wandering into my room wearing only a ukelele, excited to play a new song for me that he’d just written moments before.
Over the years, we collaborated on lots of music together and made some beautiful albums. I was invited to sit in with The Three Terrors (LD, Stephin & Dudley) for one of their infamous Knitting Factory runs, and that was another personal highlight for me. Flare played often throughout New York, as well as out-of-state, which was no easy task for a 7-piece ensemble of disparate personalities and many rickety, antique instruments. One unhappy sound man suggested we put those instruments “back in the fucking attic,” and LD often asked for “more self-loathing” in the monitors, while publicly shaming anyone on a cell phone in the audience.
I’m sad to say that we hadn’t been in touch for a long time when LD passed. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, we re-entered each other’s orbit several times over the years, but for whatever personal inadequacies on both our parts, could simply not figure out how to repair the perceived slights, and eventually simply went our separate ways.
LD often said that he was “happy to be a footnote,” if all he was ever remembered for was his work on 69 Love Songs. As someone close to him, I was never quite sure if I believed that, or if he really believed that. He was far too confident that “Flare is the best band in the world” (something he’d say often and unironically), and his lovingly narcissistic streak was often frustrated at why the rest of the world wasn’t catching on. Perhaps the world just wasn’t ready. To be unappreciated in one’s own lifetime…
Despite our estrangement, I never stopped loving him or thinking about him. He was my dear friend, and I still think about him all the time. The music we made in Flare is some of the most beautiful I’ve ever been a part of. His passing leaves me saddened, but also inspired by the transcendent music we made and the wonderful friendship we had forged. My wish is that he lives on in the music and art he leaves behind.
2. “Who Decides?” – Kendall Jane Meade
I met LD because we were on the same label, Le Grand Magistery, back in the day. It started a musical connection that lasted for years. We played many shows together, and I was always honored when he asked me to sing on songs for his many projects. In the studio, he gave me precise direction for every vocal take, always knowing exactly what he wanted from me and often pushing me to belt and extend my range. So that’s exactly what we did on this cover of Who Decides? I like to think he would be proud of how it turned out.
3. “Celebrate the Misery (Dangerous Top Mix)” – Stephin Merritt
“Celebrate the Misery” was Flare’s closest thing to a single, so naturally I slowed it down, took out the drums and put in sleighbells, made it murky and mysterious with room tone and Space Echo, and chopped out the part in Latin.
But alas! The single wasn’t released for a quarter of a century, for some nonmusical reason.
4. “A Storm is Coming” – The Real Tuesday Weld
“A Storm is Coming” was originally written for LD. While he never got the chance to record it, Martyn Jacques of The Tiger Lillies does a beautiful rendition.
5. “Martyrs of Tomorrow” – Thunderbird Divine
LD and I became friends after Charles Newman (Mother West Records) suggested LD write a few articles for my now-defunct magazine, Rockpile. His sense of humor, love of absurdity and huge talent melded with my own, and we had a lot of laughs together. We were an odd pairing: The hardcore/rocker straight guy and the indie gay dude probably didn’t make a lot of sense to others, but we had a vibe. I played a lot of guitar on his final works, and I’m extremely proud of what we did together. He also helped to produce my own band’s (Thunderbird Divine) first release. We learned so many things about recording from that process, and we owe him a huge debt of gratitude for the knowledge he shared.
LD and I created “Martyrs of Tomorrow” in my basement while working on some of LD’s last material. He had the lyrics written, but he had no chord progression in mind. He asked me to come up with “something anthemic,” and I did the best I could with that direction. We never got to make a studio recording of this song, so I thought it would be right to use some of the knowledge he shared with us to make the song a reality. I hope we made him proud. – Erik Caplan
6. “Ephemera” – Julia Kent
His music was beautiful, baroque, acerbic, and heartfelt, like LD himself. It was always a joy to see him and chat about everything, from art to books to mutual friends and enemies. Being with him sometimes felt like being in another era: a more amusing and civilized one. He was an unbounded spirit and leaves an outsized hole in the world. – Julia
7. “Definitive” – Dudley Klute and Joe Mordecai
LD was a good friend who was always ready to encourage those around him to pursue their creative interests. He generously would ask me to join in various performances he was organizing, and at those shows I would also often join him during his set and sing harmony or backing vocals. The song “Definitive” was one we had fun rehearsing and then performing together on multiple occasions. It was the first song I thought of when asked to do a song for this project. I hope you enjoy our version of this beautiful song.
8. “Death Lies Near at Hand” – Doug Hilsinger
LD, such a sweet, talented, and intelligent man. I can still hear his laugh and see his smile. We became friends in San Francisco, through the gay musician community, hanging out at south of market bars. I first played on a Moth Wranglers track, and later he flew me to NYC to record pedal steel and guitar on his Tragic Realism album. I chose Death Lies Near At Hand because of the lyrics, and I have such fond memories of recording it with him. – Doug
9. “School of New York City” – Linda Heck
Learning “School of New York City” felt like channeling into a vast mycelium transcending time and space—deepening the mystery of all things, connecting me and LD from Memphis to NYC and beyond through song. – Linda
10. “Ukulele Built for Two” – Moth Wrangers
In the spring of 1994, just after meeting LD in NYC (shortly after he moved there), I received a delivery of flowers, specifically yellow roses, at my apartment in SF. I have to admit, I was a bit taken aback as I had never received flowers from anyone. Though he explained this to me at the time, now when I do a web search for “what do yellow roses mean?”:
- Yellow roses primarily symbolize friendship, joy, and new beginnings, acting as a bright, non-romantic gesture of care and affection.
That type of generosity is definitively LD.
“Ukulele Built For Two” was one of the last songs we wrote together. For some reason, LD thought it would be good to get the Navins (The Aluminum Group) to sing on this. Though I wasn’t convinced, I was game. Unfortunately, our relationship ended before we could follow through on finishing this recording in any form.
I feel there’s a relaxed quality to LD’s vocal on this recording. That’s probably because he felt the pressure was off since he wasn’t going to sing the final version.
As my tribute to LD, I wanted to give folks the chance to experience this unique LD performance. Plus, I know he would totally love that he appears on his own tribute album. – Chris Xefos
11. “Wish It Away” – Odd Bear Out
ODD BEAR OUT takes its name from the original BEAR magazine personal ad placed by JS Adams in 1991. The ad was a call-to-arms for others who felt marginalized or out-of-step within the greater ‘bear’ community/aesthetics at that time; those who were deeply interested in difficult-listening music and boundary-challenging artwork. LD Beghtol replied to the advert and a friendship was born. – James Adams
12. “The Apocalypse is my Boyfriend” – Dana Kletter
For nearly two decades, LD and I carried on what seemed to me like one long wide-ranging conversation encompassing everything, from the loves of our lives (country ham, Walter Matthau) to possible titles for our next imagined band and/or album (Crash Narrative, Forgetting Curve) to the songs he wrote and asked me to sing. – Dana
13. “Glitter” – Not Waving But Drowning
Being in a band with LD was never just about the music. It was about everything that came with him — because LD never arrived alone. He arrived with an ornate world.
14. “Like Is a Very Strong Word” – Akachuck
After meeting and hanging out with LD several times at our old local haunt, he gave me a handful of CDs from his various projects. He informed me that I would be playing in some of them, and that is when I fell in love with “Like” Is A Very Strong Word from the album Hung, and could not stop listening to it for over a month. I am honored that Charles thought of me and asked me to pick out a song and that I got to do this one, as it is beautiful and deserves more recognition. Thank you LD for the experiences, the music, and the friendship. – Chuck Plummer
15. “Lack of Better” – Linda Smith and Bob Huff
I only met LD in person once. The occasion was a Chickfactor show at Fez in the 90’s, where I opened for The Magnetic Fields. While I sat at a table waiting for my turn to perform, LD approached and sat opposite me. Would I be interested in contributing to a tribute album to the 80’s NY band Crash?, he asked. Certainly, I replied, somewhat surprised that someone I’d never met before was aware of that band and the fact that I had sung backup on one of Crash’s songs at least 10 years before when I lived in NYC. Though the project did not materialize, we kept in touch occasionally about other possibilities until 2017 when LD graciously consented to cover one of my songs for a tribute cassette (released on Lost Sound Tapes) and also to design the cover. Later, during the quarantine summer of 2020, when I started recording again after many years, I received a text from LD suggesting some ideas for possible collaboration. Perhaps I could record a cover of one of his songs? We decided on “Lack of Better”, a nicely moody tune that’s starts on an E minor chord. I was given license to do whatever I wanted to do. Once I’d finished my tracks, he was to add an acoustic guitar track and a back up vocal to complete the recording. We last discussed the project in a phone call on Thanksgiving night when he returned early from a trip to Memphis fearing another lockdown might be imminent. After talking a bit about the state of the world in general (as well as various recording software options), the chat ended. I assumed that we would pick up where we left off sometime in the near future.
While I cannot claim to have known LD well personally, I thought of him as a rare spirit, someone who knew exactly what was good and what was not so good. His gift for words, songwriting, and the visual are not often found in one artist. When he died suddenly in December 2020, I became aware through social media of the many friends and musicians he had known and worked with. Because he had participated enthusiastically in my own tribute cassette some years before, I thought that the best tribute to LD would be a collection of his own songs as covered by the people he knew. These songs, often sad and funny at the same time, deserve far more listeners. This album aims to find them. — Linda
A number of folks in our community wrote tributes to LD when he passed.