Gord Lewis’s complex relationship with a wild way of life, as guitarist for legendary Hamilton rock band Teenage Head

The anecdotes and tributes, the voices of shock and grief, the expressions of confusion, love and loss continue to pile up like requiem flowers at a sidewalk memorial.

Gord Lewis is gone.

As the news travels, the sharing multiplies; On social media, in private thoughts, in conversations not just in this city but everywhere that Teenage Head counted as conquered territory, because they still enjoy fandom in both the near and (in pockets) far corners of the known world - and, beyond the known world, referring to Toronto, of course.

But especially in Hamilton, where it all started, his death, especially under the circumstances, is felt with special force and is generating so much talk.

Gord, like the rest of the band, had acquired, despite his humility and sweetness, a kind of mythic stature in the collective teenage head"-space of their followers, regardless how old they grew.

That comes with the turf. Gord was a rock star.

Teenage Head became, very quickly, legendary. They projected defiance, fun, rebellion in a way that vibrated with masses of us, but that somehow never translated into a lucrative record deal.

Fame, yes, but behind the band's infectious punk persona remained the common clay and complexity of real, struggling people - Gord as complex and compelling as any. He was humble and kind, caring and curious, say friends, but he also could be driven and determined and he battled mightily with depression.

And despite what assumptions might cling to our conception of rock star," there was no great wealth.

Says Steve Mahon, Teenage Head co-founder and bassist, We had to fight for every penny we earned. It was always a struggle. That took its toll." Teenage Head was, he adds, essentially a cult" band.

The struggle for money, the death of Frankie Venom (Frank Kerr) in 2008, a car accident in the early 1980s that laid Gord up for a year - these and other tragedies and setbacks were among the factors that troubled the waters over the years.

Gord would take jobs teaching music or selling sports cards at a plaza mall. Some rock star" life.

But the love of music, the dream of it, drove Gord onward. He was always working at music, says Steve.

They met as young teens at a mutual friend's house, trying to form a rock band and practising every Saturday morning.

The neighbours would call the police on us," says Steve, every weekend. The police would sit with us on the stairs and ask us to keep it down but they said, after a few times, Stick with it. You're getting better.'"

Steve gives Gord much of the credit for them getting better.

I was always in awe of him. I couldn't believe how quickly he learned. While I was plodding along on bass he was sounding like bands whose records we were buying. He had that gift."

Gord's younger brother Brian Lewis echoes that sense of wonder.

I was in awe of him. He had a high school band. He would bring home demo tapes. I was glued to listening to them."

Music, yes, but also the scene. Something big was brewing. Punk rock. One time, Steve, Gord and a few others made their way to New York City. They talked their way on to the stage of legendary NYC punk club CBGBs.

Andy Warhol was in the audience. We got a good review in the Village Voice." They also went to see the New York Dolls at Massey Hall. Kiss was the opening act."

The dream drove them on, perhaps Gord more than any. He was a shy kid," says Steve, but not that shy. He had the balls to get on the bus alone (to get to practice, in the very early days). He said he wanted to be in a band, how cool it would be like The Monkees, to always be together.'"

The dream.

Says Douglas Arrowsmith, director/producer of Picture My Face: The Story of Teenage Head," 2020 TVO documentary: When Gord walked in the room (the first time Douglas met him, in 2017), I felt a wave come off of him, of something beyond words. An aura. I knew he would be the carrier of the story."

Douglas and Gord formed a close relationship. Gord talked about his depression, which becomes a prominent theme in the movie. Frankie's death was a trigger, an irreplaceable loss.

Gord said to me once, this is what rock and roll will do to you."

The dream. Is it a tragic sense of life that draws people to it or is it the dream that creates the tragic sense of life?

Yet there's so much more than tragedy.

Douglas says he always struck by Gord's kindness, when he presented Dave Rave with the velvet lapel jacket he wore for some of the shooting of the doc.

Steve remembers him for his excitement and the music.

They had planned to go back on the road when COVID hit. He was so excited about that."

Steve wants all to know that in Gord's memory, Teenage Head will honour its performance commitments (see Teenage Head Facebook page for dates), with Trent Carr on guitar.

Jeff Mahoney is a Hamilton-based reporter and columnist covering culture and lifestyle stories, commentary and humour for The Spectator.jmahoney@thespec.com