So here I am, a sunday night at midnight, listening to Ethel Merman’s “Doin’ what comes naturally” and downing Bushmills “10” single malt. I listen to Ethel every night and it never ceases to amaze me how brillaint a performer she is. All hats off to the gal, IMHO.

But tonight I have the blues. I lost a friend on saturday, the summer solstice, to cancer. He was brave every step of the way and died in his sleep, peacefully. He was the President, owner and operator of Eggbert records. He released the Rusty Squeezebox solo record and mine as well. But more than that, he was a huge music lover and put out all his favorite records.

When Baby Lemonade signed to NYC label, BIG DEAL, in ’98, Greg was out bidded, yet he came to our first gig after that to congratulate us. That was Greg in a nutshell; above and beyond the call of duty and your friend to a fault.

I was signed to Eggbert and Greg and I got into a very nasty legal dispute last summer. I came home after LOVE played Glastenbury to a phone message from one of my best friends, David “Cookiehead” Jenkins, asking me to call ASAP.

Unfortunately, the ugly cancer that would shadow Greg and us all was way too far and it was a wing and a prayer to stop it. But even in weak times, Greg got himself out to shows in LA when anyone else would have kept their asses at home. Greg Dwinnell was a royal pain to some because he told it straight. Although Greg and I had our differences, arguements, hate-yelling and everything you could ever think of were simply appatizers that led to what we both really cared about, which was NFL football.

Greg was the biggest Reskins fan and he would freaquently fly to D.C. to see those lame ass bums play ball. I tried to be the voice of reason, having lost a bundle on the “dead skins” in ’94. But Greg was tried and true and, ya know what? God bless him.

I really can’t put Greg Dwinnell into words. The guy was hard edged, lived it and seen it-egde, and was probaly one of the nicest and honest people you could ever claim to have ever met. And the guy went thru sh*t as well. But he came out of it and was a success. He put his money behind alot of people and alot of things because he believed in music. He believed in Rusty and I and we’ll never forget it. So tonight, I propose a drink for our friend, Greg Dwinnell, who left us at 1:45pm saturday in his sleep, no doubt dreaming of music…

Mike Randle