'That was Terry Cox!'

Terry Cox should have been famous. Or he should have been living comfortably, at least, given his array of talents. Failing that, he should have been allowed to just draw a wage from his vast personal charm.

But as these things go, Terry's gifts as a musician, writer and artist went largely unrewarded, even as he was readily captivating and influencing the people around him. Of course, there are worse legacies.

Terry died on Feb. 9 at Burnaby General. He was 46. When I was looking for this small but precise obit in Edmonton's Vue Weekly -- one of two Edmonton weeklies that used to benefit from Terry's unflagging writerly wit -- I also came upon this sweetly true and unaffected version of Keith Richards's "Before They Make Me Run" -- one of the best and probably the most honest track from the Stones's last great album, Some Girls.

As a tribute to the Terry Cox I knew, though not well enough, it's nigh on perfect. But I'll let the artist, Sherry-Lee Wisor, explain why. From an e-mail she sent me:

"Terry could channel the essence of this gritty, savage, joyful element of rock and roll in a way that animated his whole being...

I chose to do 'Before They Make Me Run' in honour of Terry for a few reasons. First of all, Terry's resemblance to Keith Richards really doesn't need to be discussed -- but this song shows that the resemblance goes far deeper than appearance. There is a sweetness and a humour to the lyrics that can be easily missed because of Keith's ragged vocalizing. 'I wasn't lookin' too good but I was feelin' real well / After all is said and done, I did alright, I had my fun / I will walk before they make me run.'

Beyond all that, Terry was a wonderful person to ponder personal demons with. Yeah, it really is another goodbye to another good friend. Love you Terry, and thank you."

Wisor fronts the Edmonton-based band Happy (presumably named after another of Keef's bestest moment, this time from Exile On Main Street). They'll be releasing their first EP, kiss.bang, at the end of the month.

Wisor's friendship with Terry began in Edmonton's music scene in the '80s, where, as legend has it, Terry was something of a young God. Damion Gray of Vancouver's Black Bones was around back then, when Terry was doing time in bands like Jr Gone Wild and Punched Unconscious, and recalls:

"He was the guy. If you needed a guitar player, Terry could walk into anything and work it out on stage. The tone was all in his hand. He could play any guitar really, and make it sound like a dream. There was just something about the way he played. And he had a way of reading the whole groove and just being in the right place at the right time. Anybody who truly loved music wanted to play with him."

On the topic of Terry's humility, Gray tells me, "I honestly never heard Terry say he was a good guitar player or a good writer. I always heard him say he likes to do those things. It was never a matter of him thinking he was better than anyone else, and I honestly don't think he realized he could make a living as a writer. He did it, but he kept wondering how he kept getting paycheques."

By the time I met him in 2004, he was deep into his long struggle with heroin. I was the Music Editor at The Nerve Magazine and Terry wanted to write for us. Which he did, and then some, being a man incapable of putting a lid on his muse.

Terry's copy was lethal without being mean, effortlessly funny and clever, pithy, and -- honestly -- a little too good for us. But he would trundle down to the office and puke out words for no more than a coffee and a slice of pizza or a burrito, whenever he was on top of his demons. Which sadly wasn't often enough, for us or him.

One particularly great piece he did came about as The Nerve was planning its final Rock 'n' Roll Boat Cruise -- an annual party on the high seas (i.e. the Burrard Inlet) -- when the magazine was facing an ominous bunch of lawsuits, not the least of them being for an injury sustained by a patron on the previous year's Rock 'n' Roll Boat Cruise.

Terry whipped up (in about 20 minutes, graphics and all) a hilariously authentic looking "Clip & Save All-Purpose Liabilities Waiver" which stated, among other things, "Our legal counsel advises us that some kind of protective legal armour is completely essential in today's world of petty civil suits, clumsy malcontents, and drunken bitches." It went on: "The bearer of this completely legal document assumes all risks involved with:

• boarding a water craft
• lifting glass to their mouth
• drinking alcohol
• listening to loud music
• standing anywhere near the stage, the bar or the edges of the boat
• standing near the publisher
• standing near the music editor
• standing, in general
• falling down
• falling off the boat
• being thrown off the boat

Which is funny in and of itself, but even funnier when you saw how many people showed up for the party that year earnestly clutching their signed liability waivers.

In the same issue, there's Terry's addition in the contents page, for an article about folk legend Bert Jansch: "Thish schummer's hottescht schensation!"

Silly, yes, but inspired. Terry had it on tap, which is amazing when you consider how much chain the man was carrying at that point in his life.

I had never heard of Terry Cox the first time he rolled up and introduced himself, all lanky, wired and wearing the best hair I've ever seen on a man. It was only after he boogied off to the bar that my friend, standing silently beside me the whole time, and himself a younger survivor of Alberta's perilously decadent rock 'n' roll scene, piped up, "Do you have any idea who that was? That was Terry Cox!"

I wish more people had an idea who Terry Cox was.

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