A heartfelt RIP for Pat DiNizio of the Smithereens, a truly great and underappreciated band. I knew Pat just a little bit; he’d been to see my band a time or two, and we ran in some of the same circles when I lived in NYC. A very sweet guy, unassuming and diffident almost to the point of shyness; a fantastic singer and songwriter, with an instantly recognizable style that was all his own, in both roles.
First time I met him, in a bar down on Bleeker Street he played regularly early in his career, he approached me, complimented me on a show we had just done at Tramp’s with Little Richard, and…I said thanks and pretty much blew him off. He had on big goofy glasses and a ratty old overcoat, and I really didn’t know who the hell he was. My friend and roomie Lisa was tending bar; she knew him fairly well, and she came over and asked me, “Oh, so you met Pat, eh?” I said, “Pat? Pat who…? OH SHIT!” and ran over to apologize to him, declaring myself a huge Smithereens fan, which was nothing but the truth. He was completely gracious about my arrogant faux pas (I admit I thought I was pretty hot shit back then, although the world has seen fit to educate me a little more, umm, completely since), and we ended up having a good laugh about it, bless his heart. May you rest easy, buddy, till we meet again.