Remembering Guy Klucevsek
Guy Klucevsek performs at the Newhouse Center for Contemporary Art at Snug Harbor, October 2023. Photo: Lance Reha
Guy Klucevsek, accordionist and composer, passed away on May 22 at the age of 78. A longtime Staten Islander, Klucevsek was renowned for his ability to weave a unique sonic landscape that fused the traditions of polka with the avant-garde.
I first met Guy in the lead-up to his 70th birthday performance, which took place at the Newhouse Center for Contemporary Art at Snug Harbor in February 2017. In my new role as the Director of the Newhouse Center, I worked with Guy to ensure that his performance ran smoothly. I was incredibly nervous about working with him, knowing that he had a lengthy resume, which included collaborations with artists such as Laurie Anderson and Trisha Brown. However, after meeting Guy as we prepared for his show, I found him to be incredibly humble and kind, with a sharp, quick-witted sense of humor that put me at ease. On the evening of his performance, we welcomed visitors from as near as Livingston and New Brighton, Staten Island, to as far away as North Carolina and Boston. This evening ended up being the first of several performances I had the pleasure of organizing for Guy at Snug Harbor between 2017 and 2023.
Five years later, I invited Guy and Volker Goetze to compose a suite of songs to accompany Little Amal, the 12-foot puppet representing a 10-year-old refugee from war-torn Syria. Amal trekked across the five boroughs with much fanfare, and when she finally arrived at Staten Island on September 30, 2022, thousands welcomed her and walked with her through Snug Harbor. It was an honor to orchestrate the conditions for Guy to perform this work, which included arranging for a golf cart to transport him from the Healing Garden down Cottage Row, with the band in tow, as Little Amal walked alongside them. This performance, which can only be described as one of great magnitude, felt particularly special, as Guy had been living with pancreatic neuroendocrine cancer, and it took a lot of energy for him to make it happen.
The Little Amal project invigorated Guy and ostensibly "forced" him out of retirement, though he never seemed to slow down from making music. He and Volker went into the studio with Jeff Hudgins and Doug Wieselman to record the songs they had performed during The Walk. After the recording was complete, we arranged for a performance as part of the Newhouse After Dark series. On October 7, 2023, we again welcomed nearly a hundred visitors from all over the region – yes, including some who traveled across several states to see Guy perform. His music was magnetic, pulling people in. A natural storyteller, he shared wry yet poignant tidbits about the music in between songs.
Guy and I kept up a correspondence through email, and he and his wife, Jan, attended many of our events. He shared that he enjoyed my curatorial selections, which meant a lot to me. Last fall, when I choreographed a dance for the Wagner College Dance Company, he and Jan attended. At the end of the concert, we stood at the back of the theater talking about the dance, which featured new music by Marisa Tornello. At that point, his health was poor, and I appreciated the effort he made to attend the show. We emailed about it later, specifically regarding the music – I sent him Marisa's recording so that he could listen to it more closely. He also lamented about the Mets, for whom he was "sitting shiva."
This past winter was brutally cold, and I felt myself shift inward. When I would manage to get into the dance studio, I'd often return to a composition by Guy, "Winter is an Etching," whose title comes from a quote by Stanley Horowitz. The piece, performed by Todd Reynolds and Jenny Lin, sounds like tree limbs cracked in ice, contracting, yawning, swaying against a pale pink sky. During a rehearsal with dancer Rosita Roldan, I played the song, and she improvised to it. She embodies the sadness and softness, the duality of the piano and violin, in such a beautifully real way. I shared the video with Guy, who wrote, "You must always insist on that same natural lighting throwing those stunning reflections on the floor."
That was the last email exchange we had, though I received a signed copy of "Little Big Top," his last album, a few weeks later. The inscription expressed gratitude for supporting the project, which made my day. It was an honor to work with Guy, supporting the development of his last album in some small way and to create a platform for him to perform new music during his "semi-retirement."
The truth is, I am glad he never retired. Though I can only imagine the physical and emotional pain he went through, music is a salve, as is the community we share. During that first concert I hosted eight years ago, Guy performed a recently written song, "Pauline, Pauline (for Pauline Oliveros)." Oliveros, a groundbreaking composer and accordion player, had recently passed away. This song felt like a hymn against the soft lights of the Newhouse, that respite for "aged, decrepit, and worn out sailors." Pauline Oliveros' spirit was in the room; I could feel it, as were the musical residues she left, enmeshed in experimentation and daring, for new generations of artists to imbibe. The incantation of her name, repeated over and over again at the end, remains one of the most compelling lyrical experiences I have witnessed.
May your virtuosity and humor, humbleness and artistry live on through the legacy of your music.
Read Guy’s obituary in The New York Times here.
Note: the final video features a performance of Pauline, Pauline (for Pauline Oliveros) at Roulette Intermedium (2016).
Melissa West is a choreographer and curator based in Staten Island, NY. She is the Director & Senior Curator of the Newhouse Center for Contemporary Art at Snug Harbor, and co-founder of the Shaolin Art Party. West is dedicated to creating local opportunities and innovative cultural experiences for artists and audiences alike. mwestdances.nyc