Rainer is starting to make his way back
Saturday, 5 April 1997
Bryn Bailer
THE ARIZONA DAILY STAR
These days, slide guitarist Rainer Ptacek is an understandably introspective
man. Beating death and regaining a lost muse will do that to you.
In the past year, Rainer - a humble yet immensely talented musician still
better known in Europe than here - has battled cancer, a
post-chemotherapy bout with what may have been Legionnaire's disease,
and serious memory problems that still make songwriting an arduous
proposition.
The experience has challenged him physically, financially and spiritually.
And while it has not beaten him, it appears to have definitely changed his
outlook on life.
``Really, the difference between living and dying is not all that big,'' Rainer
mused during a recent interview in his modest, midtown home, surrounded
by postcards from friends, photos of family members, CDs and music
tapes, and a trusty, upright vacuum cleaner.
``If you're out there on the verge of death, all it takes is a little flick of the
finger, (and) you're over.''
He paused.
``And it takes quite a bit to come back.''
Fortunately, a number of people, both here and abroad, pulled quite more
than a bit for him. They ranged from longtime friends to barroom fans,
famous rock stars to Buddhist monks.
``All those people are responsible for my healing,'' he insisted. ``I don't
know if I would have healed without them.''
If Rainer Ptacek (pronounced RY-ner THA-chek) wasn't completely
familiar with the blues before February 1996, he certainly was afterward.
That was the month he learned - following a violent, unexpected seizure
that landed him in a local emergency room - that he had a fist-sized tumor
in his brain. And cancer in his central nervous system. And not a shred of
health insurance to cushion the blow.
Medical coverage was not a benefit that his employers at the downtown
Chicago Music Store provided.
February also was the month that Rainer, who was the main breadwinner
for his family, learned he would be unable to work as a guitar repairman,
or as a performer. And it was when he and his wife, Patti, began to fear
that he might not live to see their new baby daughter, Lily Marlena, enter
kindergarten.
Today, sitting at his well-worn kitchen table encircled with Easter cards, a
small envelope marked ``Brain Tumor Support Group,'' and the haunting,
amplified voice of Egyptian singer Natacha Atlas, dying doesn't seem
foremost on his mind.
But living, and creating, are.
Right now, he is particularly excited about the impending release of a new
compact disc, ``The Inner Flame: Rainer Ptacek Tribute.'' The CD, which
Atlantic Records tentatively plans to release in July, features established
artists (including Emmylou Harris, PJ Harvey, Jimmy Page, Robert Plant
and Giant Sand) performing their versions of his songs.
``The whole project is just a labor of love for everybody involved,'' he
said. ``(And) it's going to be so beautiful. Once you see it, you will be
stunned, from the cover shot on.''
That said, he jumped up and returned with a rough, color copy of the
cover: a close-up of his little daughter's pale-blue eye, with a galaxy of
stars spiraling out from the pupil.
It illustrates a concept Rainer has been thinking a lot about lately: how
seemingly insignificant things, when considered from another angle, can
actually be of monumental - even lifesaving - importance.
A tiny baby can be ``the smallest thing, but it's also the largest,'' he
explained, with a smile. ``(All) at one place. At one time.''
Over the past year, it seemed, Rainer's friends and supporters also came
from all places, at all times.
They came on Tucson afternoons, organizing benefit concerts and bearing
bags of groceries so his family wouldn't go hungry. They came for days
from Czechoslovakia to help return his household to order. Friends and
associates faxed from Germany and England, and wrote from Japan, India
and all points American. Arrangements were made for Buddhist monks to
chant for him, and for Masses and Rosaries to be said in his name.
``I really do believe that's the weight that tipped the balance in my favor,''
he said.
Doctors tell Rainer that his lymphoma is in remission. Brain scans show
that the tumor - once located between the brain's two hemispheres, slightly
more to the left - is now little more than scar tissue.
That scar tissue, however, has apparently changed the way parts of his
brain work. Perhaps for a short time. Perhaps for the rest of his life.
Remembering names, dates and numbers is tough these days. Rainer
recognizes, but often cannot name, people he has known for years. His
own age (he'll be 46 in June) eludes him. He is unable to subtract even
small figures in his head.
On the other hand, he does remember that it was 1956 when he and his
parents escaped a not-yet-walled-in East Berlin and sailed to America. He
can recollect how his mother smuggled family pictures and important
papers past border authorities - by placing them underneath his baby
carriage. And he remains a witty, articulate, empathetic person.
Still, his lack of mental sharpness bothers him.
``I can remember things if you give me a day,'' he said. ``But to kind of
think on my feet, and be able recall all these different parts of your life that
have happened to you 40 years ago, and then yesterday...''
His voice trailed off.
What also may be changing is his music, and how he crafts it.
Today, there are sometimes fears and frustrations associated with
performing. And the man Rolling Stone magazine once lauded as ``a
slashing, articulate stylist, and a funny - often touching - lyricist to boot,''
must practice even his older songs before every gig.
``It's not like once the songs are played . . . that they're remembered,'' he
said, sounding slightly exasperated. ``Dexterity in my fingers is a not a
problem for me. Dexterity in my brain, thinking, is a problem.''
Actually, Rainer may be his toughest critic. In January, he visibly wowed
'em at a solo thank-you concert at University Medical Center.
As one haunting, shimmering note after another slid off the strings of his
vintage National steel-bodied guitar, doctors in white coats and nurses in
green hospital scrubs sat mesmerized. By the end of the lunchtime show,
the medical professionals joined university students, businessmen and
sweater-clad older women in giving him a standing ovation.
``I always carried this vision of myself being able to play again,'' Rainer
said recently. ``And I never let that go.'' Neither did his friends or family
members.
Today, one year and two months following his first seizure, playing
melodies still is a breeze for Rainer. It's remembering specific lyrics, or
certain turns of phrase, that still devil him.
That may indicate changes in how messages are routed between the left
hemisphere of his brain (the half that controls logic, language use and
mathematical ability) and the right (the center of musical ability, expression
of emotion and recognition of faces.)
It also could signal that Rainer is on the cusp of yet more innovation.
While songwriting is more difficult nowadays, an earlier, informal recording
session produced ``probably four of my best songs within a week.''
Including the ghostly title cut on ``The Inner Flame.''
Shaping that song involved trying things that he normally wouldn't have
done, he said, because ``you'd want to stick to the rules, the rhyming
patterns, and common words.'' Instead, he rhymed in non-traditional ways,
or dropped it entirely, in favor of an overwhelming inspiration, emotion or
sound picture.
Ironically, Rainer appears to have found some degree of liberation in being
forced to admit he often does not have control of his life.
That experience, along with his catastrophic illness and long recovery, have
forced him to concentrate on more important things: family, friends, and
love - both given and received.
``There are a lot of things you can't protect yourself against,'' he said softly.
``And a lot of things you keep dwelling on that you want to take care of,
but you can't. So you (learn to) live minute by minute.''
He smiled serenely.
``And that really is the only way to be. Everything else will take care of
itself.''