Metro Pulse/Music/Eye on the Scene

Not Of This World

Bad news always travels fast, far and wide. It was last Saturday afternoon when my phone began ringing, and by the end of the evening I'd reconnected with several farflung friends. It's usually bad tidings that bring long lost friends back together; and Saturday was no exception. Terry Hill had finally succumbed to the devastating effects of the Hepatitis C virus.

For those of you not in the know, Terry was perhaps the finest rock musician Knoxville has ever produced. Sure, Terry was a musical genius, a consummate studio perfectionist, a mad scientist of sound. But Terry was more than just an artist. He was a figurehead, a mover and shaker, and a legend.

Back in the dark ages of Knoxville rock history, around 1979 or 1980, being in a local rock band meant being in a covers-only band, period. Around UT there was a handful of fans of the more adventurous rock, which was pigeonholed as being punk or new wave music at the time. But that kind of music was an exotic variant that could only be produced in locales like New York or London.

The very idea of a local band composing its own songs—weird songs that defied the schlock being ladled out by commercial radio—was unthinkable. Even more unthinkable was the idea that such a musical mutation could find an appreciative crowd here in Knoxville, of all places.

Terry's band, Balboa, literally exploded on the local music scene around 1980. Within a few months of Balboa's big bang, a local rock scene had begun full force. Balboa was the star around which all other local acts revolved. And since Terry was the primary creative force of Balboa, he became the king of the scene.

Balboa was to Knoxville what the Velvet Underground and The Ramones had been for the rest of the world. It was the band that gave a generation of young rockers the idea that it was indeed possible to play music on your own, on your own terms: and that whatever you came up with in the deepest, darkest recesses of some dingy garage was probably as valid—heck, more valid maybe—than the high gloss dreck that was mass produced for FM radio consumption.

Terry was the catalyst for Knoxville's embryonic new music scene. And his acolytes would go on to form many of Knoxville's favorite bands. What's more, Terry was just a great guy.

I was about 15 when I first met Terry. I was a zitfaced schmuck costumed as a punk, and Terry always treated me like I was somebody. And when the best musician and coolest guy in town makes a point to befriend an aspiring young rocker, well, that has seismic impact. Heck, Terry was the hottest guitar player on the strip, the scary bohemian, the badass who'd lived in New York. He was cool incarnate.

Terry wasn't just kind to me: he was kind to everybody. He was encouraging to any and every musician that dared to play. This kindness wasn't driven by a need for popularity. Terry just honestly believed in people and sincerely thought that everyone's expression was valid from square one. He was a true idealist.

Creativity carried over into every aspect of Terry's life. He was always reading, always spouting off some weird theory, always building new electronic gadgets and constantly creating new music. At the drop of a hat, Terry would gladly give any local musician a helping (and highly skilled) hand, never asking anything in return.

Sure, Terry had a dark side. He was one of those guys who had to go everywhere and try everything. But this reckless streak was probably just a product of his zeal and idealism.

In retrospect, Terry seems like a classical hero to me. I could go on and on about some of the rowdy, ribald, fun times we shared, but that would probably be a bit too vivid. What I'll always remember most about Terry is his sincere enthusiasm. The guy was absolutely exploding with ideas every waking moment.

Yesterday I had a brief chat with Terry's mother, Joanne Hill. And in a few words, she summarized Terry's experience with an amazing clarity.

"It struck me today, my daughter once said to me, 'Terry has never been of this world,' and I think that's just about the truth. He always had such a curious mind. Terry had what was close to a genius IQ, and I think that was what made life so complicated for him.

"The thing that has impressed me so is hearing all the people who have called telling me just how much impact he had, and that he was such an encouraging person. And I'm just so proud that I had a son who was that unique."

—John Sewell

(Read more about Terry Hill's life in Citybeat)