We lost Keefer.

Earlier this week, our friend and running mate Keith Corcoran passed away peacefully in his sleep somewhere in Italy from diabetes-related issues. I don’t remember when exactly I first met Keith. But he and his friend Martin used to follow Green on Red up and down the Angry Island. And through the years we all got to know each other. Martin has a lighting company now and has done world tours with The Specials, Gilbert O'Sullivan and many, many more. (Wonderful guy. Recently got married, in fact.) And Keith “Keefer" became a photographer. Following us and The Waterboys and The Only Ones around, among others.

Eventually he worked his way into our touring van as official band photographer, merch seller and general trouble maker. And he just became part of the organization. Nobody remembers exactly when that started. Or exactly how. But he kept showing up. Might have been in Brighton or in Madrid, or Portugal. No matter. He found us.

In later years, Keith was volatile and difficult and paranoid. Talking about him with Stephie, we wondered whether he lost his way when his mother developed dementia. He never seemed to come to terms with it. 

But we loved him. Even when it was a challenge. The biggest challenge was when he got bitter and pissed off over my using his photos on Instagram. But I have to hand it to him, he did get Instagram’s attention! Not easy to do. They closed my account for violating copyright laws. 

I’ll admit I was put out after InstagramGate. My team and I tried to fight it through the Kafkaesque layers of online bureaucracy. Until we just threw our hands up and started a new account. With zero followers. But I put that all behind me long ago.

Before all that, we had some good times. Often he’d come out with me on solo tours. And act as Tour Manager. Like a badly scripted Buddy Movie. A strict vegan, boy did Keith eat poorly. Slept poorly, too. And smoked his own body weight in roll ups. But he always had a certain charm. And took such a great interest in other people.

Keefer was hard to stay mad at. He’ll always have a place in my heart. He wasn’t a materialistic person. He needed very, very little to get by and could travel with stealth. A toothbrush, his laptop, his camera—that was all he needed. He and I bonded over our handwashing habits on tour. (The more times the better.)

He was a bohemian. He loved rock ‘n’ roll. And taking pictures. And travel. He traveled the states solo many times on buses and trains, hitchhiking. Staying in hostels. He went out and did it.  Keith lived. He will be missed.

Godspeed Keefer.

   -CP

P.S. Yesterday we reminisced about Keith in the Mission Express group text. We loved his Scottish accent. James wrote: “RIP Keefer. We had some good times.” Vicente said he’d tear open a packet of crips in his honor. It’s hard to accept that he’s really gone. Stephie wrote: “I was hoping he'd show up to one of our gigs on the last tour and start bossing everyone around.” Keith was always trying to get me together with Andy McCoy. Said I just had to hear him play Flamenco guitar.