Skip to main contentLife is a bitch sometimes. Bob Desper knows how cruel it can be. At age 10, he lost his sight in an accident. Fifty years later, another mishap crippled Desper's ability to do what he did best—play guitar. All this to a deeply spiritual man who describes the music he used to make as "ministry work." And yet, the last person you'll hear complaining about the hand he's been dealt is Bob Desper.
"There are people far worse off than me," the 59-year-old says over the phone from his home in Albany, Ore. "Gratefulness coordinates you to do better."
Maybe it's that gratefulness that has earned Desper's songwriting career an unexpected second act. In 1974, Desper went into a Portland studio and recorded a stunning album of bruised, haunted folk songs. A local Christian label distributed a few hundred copies of the vaguely religious New Sounds, then it—and its creator—disappeared into the footnotes of Pacific Northwest music history. But as the decades passed, the record's lore (and value—it sold for $400 to $1,000 on eBay) grew. Three years ago, the owners of Discourage Records found a copy at a thrift store, and were so floored by the album they offered to reissue it on their imprint. And now, Desper—his once-dark black hair and mustache thinned into white wisps—is preparing for his first Portland concert in, well, forever. But don't call it a comeback: To hear Desper tell it, he may have been lying low, but he's never been inactive.
"I'm a daredevil," he says. "I'm always busy with something. You will not find me sitting still."
A self-described "hyperactive child," Desper spent his early years in Virginia. One day while running around an embankment, he slipped and hit his head on a fence post, causing his optic nerve to hemorrhage. Adjusting to life without vision, Desper built up a strong memory to navigate his hometown (he says he has a GPS in his head), a skill he later used to learn guitar.
His family left Virginia in the early '60s, and Desper eventually ended up living on the campus of the Oregon School for the Blind in Salem. Getting expelled for fighting two weeks shy of graduation sparked Desper's spiritual awakening. (He classifies himself as a "messianic Christian.") It was also around that time when he started playing in his first bands. In 1972, he traveled from his new home in Eagle Creek to record a solo single in Portland, then returned two years later to make New Sounds. It's a stark, stirring collection of songs—just guitar and voice—underpinned by a palpable sense of dread. But despite such titles as "Darkness Is Like a Shadow," Desper insists the mood is not meant to be melancholy.
"I wasn't thinking of gloomy darkness," he says. "It was more about a peaceful moment on the side of the hill, like a sermon on the mountain."
After getting married and having kids, Desper faded from the music scene, eventually moving to Albany and making a living as a costume salesman. (A freak hand injury a few years ago—he slammed his fingers in a guitar case, and the injury never properly healed—impaired his virtuoso guitar skills.) The tiny Rose City Sound label had pressed only about 1,000 copies of New Sounds, making it a rare gem among vinyl collectors, but Paul Montone and Paul Anson of Discourage Records didn't know this when they picked it up for 35 cents at a local secondhand shop. Drawn in by the plain, psychedelic album cover, they were both struck by Desper's guitar playing and the emotional heft of the record.
"I loved how world-weary the record sounded," Montone says. "It was so intriguing, and I wanted to know more about it." It took Montone and Anson a month to track Desper down. And while he embraced the idea of reissuing New Sounds, he hadn't thought about the record in years. "It's not something he carries around with a lot of pride," Anson says. "He'd rather focus on what he's doing lately."
Indeed, Desper admits he hasn't listened to the album much, and has forgotten a lot of the lyrics. At his gig at the Woods, where he will be backed by Portland folk band Dolorean, he'll focus on newer material that he says is more "upbeat." That's not to say he isn't grateful for New Sounds' rediscovery. After all, gratitude is Desper's credo.
"Being resentful and bitter doesn't help you go forward," he says, "to raise up your life."
Bob Desper plays a re-release show for
at the Woods on Thursday, June 17. 8 pm. $8 advance, $10 day of show. 21+.
WWeek 2015