Enemy: Hird

If you've ever heard of the "Yoko Effect," this is one case in which I came across it in real life. It applies to a person whose presence can be very polarizing, to the point that it can have a tremendous impact on long term bonds.

I first became aware of Hird when Abed told me about meeting this musician. He was in his 50s. Abed said that his brain was so messed up from doing drugs his entire life that he couldn't listen to regular structured music. He could only listen to music if it was completely improvised. He could play guitar, but had more of a penchant for creating experimental music with noise. At first, Abed was rather dismissive about him, but started spending more time with him.

Abed invited me to see Hird's group perform at the Wikiup Cafe. They were opening for a well-known local musician. The performance mostly consisted of random sounds and feedback. I wasn't too impressed, but Abed really seemed to be into it. After they played for about 45 minutes. Hird announced, "We're going to take a little break and be right back!" I thought, "Wait, you're the opening act. You don't get an intermission! When you stop playing, that's when the headliner is supposed to go on! Get out of the way and let's hear some real music!"

After the break, they played for 30 more minutes. For the last piece, they had some more musicians come on stage. They mostly added rhythm to the noise. This was actually pretty good and if most of the show had been like this, I would have enjoyed it more.

Abed started spending a lot more time with Hird. From what Abed told me, Hird was one of these guys who decided it was funny to just go around and piss people off all the time. He would just say stuff to get some kind of reaction out of someone, anyone. This included me. I can't specifically recall exactly what he said, but it was clear he questioned my intelligence, especially when it came to music. I would ignore these comments, but I always felt angry about them and I was even more angry that he knew how to push my buttons to make me feel that way.

Once I was in his van with Abed and we saw a couple of men fighting on the street. He drove up to them and asked, "Would you like some help?" I'm surprised they didn't come after us.

Then Hird started giving Abed artistic advice. He basically told him he shouldn't be messing with writing all those songs and that improvised noise was really what he should be doing. Abed started taking this seriously and began incorporating improvised noise elements into his material. Abed told me he was going to stop writing songs altogether and start concentrating on making noise. I wondered how Hird was able to attain this level of influence over Abed. Abed didn't think much of people who smoke pot, so it was a mystery. I felt like Hird had torn Abed from his musical path and I was powerless to get him to stop driving on the corrugated shoulder.

For a brief period of time, Abed and Hird were roommates. Then one day, they got in a fight and Hird pulled a knife on Abed. Abed left the apartment immediately. I was unaware of the threat of violence, but Abed came to me one day and said, "You know what? Hird's full of s***!" I thought things were going to go back to normal. However, while Abed went back to writing actual songs, he still did a lot of experimental music with noise.

About a year later, Abed and Hird were friends again and collaborated from time to time. There was a compilation CD that Abed and Hird were invited to be a part of. I got to play on Abed's contribution and Hird put together a noise piece that involved Abed. I was in the control room when they were recording together. Toward the end of the track, Abed was pounding nails into a piece of wood and Hird was shaking some chains. Abed would pound the hammer and then Hird would shake the chains. This continued back and forth for about five minutes. Then Abed would pound three times, followed by Hird shaking three times. Pound pound pound. Shake shake shake. Pound pound pound. Shake shake shake. This thought had entered my mind, but the studio engineer articulated it: "Oh, Jesus! They're both trying to be the last sound on the track! This is never going to end!" He pushed the stop button on the recorder and made them come inside. Abed insisted that they were maintaining a conversation through noise, but to me, it appeared they were just saying the same thing over and over because neither one wanted to get off the phone.

But Hird still liked to piss people off, including me. When Abed and I were roommates, Hird had come over a couple of times and was told that he needed to park on the street. One day, I left the apartment to run an errand in my car for five minutes and returned to find Hird's van parked in my space. And there was plenty of spots on the street! GRRRR! He was pushing my buttons again! Before I even got into the apartment, I started yelling at him for parking in my space. He said, "Calm down. Calm down. I'm only here for a few minutes." I just didn't like that I was going to have to repark my car after he left.

So, during the time that we knew each other in San Diego, I considered Hird an enemy. Now, he's one of my Facebook friends. That happened because after I became friends with Abed on Facebook, he sent invitations to several of his friends to connect with me. And in 2010, Facebook was all about building up your friend network, regardless of whether you liked them or not. Oddly enough, I was even friends with Hird's son, whom I had only met once in my life, but his son brought that to a close recently.

Hird is still involved with the local experimental/noise scene in San Diego. I don't know if he gets to perform much, but his Facebook posts mostly consist of local happenings. And surprisingly, he doesn't post anything to piss people off.

Has he changed? I don't know. I haven't seen him in person in 15 years. And I don't know if I'll ever see him again.