[I awoke a while back with the need to finally write something down concerning two friends who passed away four days apart back in late March. I wrote a version of the following that day but never bothered to post it anywhere.]
I'm gonna say I met rock 'n' roll photographer Paul Lundgren in late 2015 at a Bryant-Lake Bowl party hosted by Sharon Samels. He proved to be a good guy to sit/stand with at shows—if you didn't mind him dashing away in mid-conversation to catch that perfect shot. He'd return and one of us would invariably say “what a great fu¢king band!”
I don't believe “Front Row Paul” Engebretsen—rock 'n' roll enthusiast extraordinaire—and I were ever formally introduced. Just repeatedly crossing paths at so many shows and so many opportunities to have FRP turn to find me in the second row and one of us commenting “what a great fu¢king band!”
And so, I was happy to call both Pauls my friends, as could most everyone attending music events in the Twin Cities over the last fifty years. Early 2022 brought an email from David Aquilina—whom Paul Lundgren had introduced me to at a show—inviting Paul and I to join him for some Twins baseball that summer. He even had a name for us: The Gentlemen of Leisure. And matching jerseys. Huh?
By 2024, Robert Wilkinson and FRP had joined the crew, and even I was enjoying a bit of celebrity. “Who's the other guy?” people wanted to know. They'd point at me in public and say: “Aren't you that other guy with those guys at the Twins games?” Yeah, that's me.
By this February, David put out a call to pay up for this year's games, ending the text with a comment about our first game not being until May to allow time for Paul Lundgren to recover from his brain surgery. I knew nothing about it, though I knew FRP hadn't been feeling well all year. We all paid our money looking forward to another season of baseball.
Paul's surgery seemed to go well but FRP gave us the devastating news about pancreatic cancer in late February. By late March, I stood with a packed crowd at the Schooner dreading news of the coma Paul Lundgren would not awaken from, and four days later, Front Row Paul was gone too.
Sure, there will be a bench commemorating Mr. Lundgren on a Lake Harriet path and FRP Fest at Palmer's was a rousing success with a fund to carry Mr. Engebretson's passion into the future but, for me, nothing will replace seeing them at a show.
Yesterday, I attended a Minnesota Music Resistance gathering at the Hook & Ladder. This had been FRP's brainchild and both Pauls would've surely been in attendance. I finally saw Cindy Costello and her band (I know, what took me so long?) and wanted so bad to track down both Pauls and exchange a hearty “what a great fu¢king band!”
