Requiem for a sax player

The Will Clay that Ridlen describes sounds very much like the guy so many old Dallas punks remember: sarcastic and sincere all at once, stand-offish and affectionate to friends and strangers. "He was real encouraging and genuine, and he was also acerbic, like a lot of people back then," Ridlen says. "But he was also real self-deprecating, which I thought was amusing. [We] used to call him 'Won't Clay,' because he was so down about everything. But his theatricality came through, because he was raised around that."

Even those on the scene who weren't close to Clay talk about him with affection. For someone who never fronted his own band, someone history has relegated to the fine print, Will Clay seems in death much larger than in life. He appears now as a guy who could will himself into bands he wanted to join, who never stayed too long in one project because he so desperately wanted to keep moving. Colin Marsh, bass player in The Doo and later Princess Tex, describes him as an enigma, someone who was "rarely present," yet so many others, including his girlfriend and father, use phrases like "life of the party" and "cynical, offbeat sense of humor" to describe him.

"He was a nice guy--a great guy," Marsh says, "but he was always looking for something that wasn't quite there."

In early 1981, Jerry and Steve Dirkx decided that it was Clay who wasn't quite there, that his fondness for beer was affecting his ability to play. And besides, Will was more into that out avant-garde shit, and the Dirkx boys wanted no part of it. So they fired him and hired Mark Griffin (who would eventually become MC 900 Ft Jesus) to replace him. Clay landed in the prog-pop Red Tapes, alongside Paul Quigg, who would go on to form Decadent Dub Team and Vibrolux.

When exactly Clay traded in beer for "the hard stuff," as his father calls it, remains a mystery. Jack Clay says no one is quite sure, only that by the time Will co-founded the Potatoes in 1987, he was using. Will stayed with the band for three years, and only a few cassettes remain of his work in the mighty Potatoes, a band made up of men whose talent helped them transcend the novelty status they so desperately wanted.

"All of the Potatoes were really funny and liked to drink beer and give each other shit," says the Volares' James "Big Bucks" Burnett, who spoke to Clay only a month ago and recalls hearing the enthusiasm and optimism in his voice. "Will was a bit...what's the way to put it? The word that comes to mind is slouchy. He was always shrugging, being real nonchalant. Not cranky, but he kinda had this negative vibe that was still adorable. I think it's important when people die not to gloss it over. He was negative a lot of times, but it never came across as rude or abrasive."

Clay wasn't long for the Potatoes: By 1990, his habit had grown so bad, his family sent him off to Hazelden in Minnesota, where he could dry out and reclaim his life. He would also spend some time in Seattle, helping his father design and build theater sets. He returned to St. Paul in 1992 and met Lucinda at a halfway house there; four years later, their on-and-off-again friendship would evolve into a romance. Everyone who knew Lucinda and Will says the two years they spent together were the best two years of each other's lives.

"Will's a pretty dynamic guy, and it took somebody like him to melt my heart," Hodgson says. "I found my soulmate. Will was just such an amazing person. He was so kind. He brought me coffee every morning, brought me flowers, cooked dinners. He was really good to me, and I fell in love with him, which was not something I expected at all. It surprised the hell out of me. I had sort of thought I didn't know what all this love stuff was about till I met Will."

The day after Christmas 1998, about 50 of Will Clay's old friends gathered at Bar of Soap to remember their old friend. While they were doing that, Jack Clay and Lucinda Hodgson were burying Will and cleaning out the studio he had only recently moved into. They found his paintings, the sax he had begun playing only six months ago. They found his special teas and the photo of the Potatoes playing with Tiny Tim. Then they said goodbye, to each other and to Will.

"William was beginning to play again," Jack says. "He had a new sax, but then it just came to a very sad and sudden end. Our sense of loss is...well, I can't tell you. It's just profound. William has been the apple of my eye all his life and..." He pauses, not to cry, but to consider. "I don't know what the hell I am going to do. But God knows he gave it his best try."

The Telefones will reunite for a brief set January 6 at Club Dada, during the Enablers' set. Also taking the stage for the so-called "Old Farts Talent Show" will be Feet First and Whiteman. The Volares and Punch, featuring Paul Averitt (ex-Trio of One), will open the night from 8 p.m. to 10 p.m.