Meeting my Doppelgänger, Tim Harrington
Meeting my Heroes is an occasional essay series from Matt Carmichael.
On understanding the assignment.
Somewhere around 2010 I learned I had a doppelgänger. Over the years I’d been told I looked like various celebs mostly depending on how much hair I had and how long it was. When I was a teenager it was Paul McCartney. When I was older, Frank from Poi Dog thought I looked like John Cleese. But nah. My real doppelgänger is Tim Harrington, the singer of Les Savy Fav, which has been described as an “art-punk band.”
I look a photos of him and think, yup that’s me with a beard. Others have said we could be brothers. One described the resemblance as, “Unnerving.”
In 2013 after my book launch, I posted a photo of him on Facebook and just played it off like it was me thanking everyone for their support. Some friends were tipped off by the Heineken Light he was drinking that it wasn’t. Others who had seen me at all recently realized I couldn’t possibly have grown a substantial beard that quickly. But some lifelong friends who hadn’t seen me lately Didn’t bat an eye.
At the time I learned this I’d mostly stopped shooting and wasn’t even going to many shows. I thought it would be fun to meet him and take a selfie, but it was also unlikely. The band also stopped releasing new material and seemed to play big festivals when they came around. I kind of gave up thinking about it.
Then I was at an end-of-season party for softball and my friend Matt said he was going to a show later that week at the Empty Bottle. I had oddly just been to that little club for the first time in like 20 years to see Bug Club, a KEXP fave. But Matt said he was going to Les Savy Fav! And the game was afoot.
Still, the show was on the birthday of one of my kids, and during an otherwise busy week and even if I went, I didn’t have any hook-ups to get me backstage. Also it was super sold-out. So I kind of let it drift. But then Matt texted on Thursday that he could get me a ticket. The kids, even the birthday kid, told me I had to. Pam gave me one of those “do it, or shut up about it” looks. And I decided to head out for a late show on a school night.
I understood the assignment. I had to get a selfie with this guy. It was binary. Anything else was failure. I assumed it would be easier to make this happen before their set, during the inevitable downtime pre-show. Honestly, I also assumed I would want to go to bed after the show.
As you’ve seen, there are many ways to meet your heroes, just in terms of the functional mechanisms. I tried them all on this night:
I tried hanging out by the door to where I thought the dressing rooms were. But first, there are a couple of those at the Bottle and second, none of them had a bouncer. So there wasn’t anyone I could just ask and plead my story to.
I tried the guy at the merch table, but he was with one of the opening bands and didn’t seem to know anyone else.
I tried the guy at the front door and asked if there was a tour manager around. But sometimes clubs and/or bands are so small they lack infrastructure. Door guy was like, I don’t even know if they have one. No one seemed overly willing to take up my cause.
Matt offered up a Hail Mary in that he knew the owner of the Bottle(!). But that seemed like overkill.
And then, we’re watching the opening band and I look up and there I am.
I mean it was one thing to see photos and think, “I really look like that dude, if I had a beard.” It’s another thing to actually see him face to (my) face. He was rocking out. Just hanging out against a wall, jumping up and down and really appreciating the opening act. Matt and his friends clocked him about the same point I did and I quickly moved closer to him.
Fanboy/stalker mode activated (sometimes the most successful method is the most straightforward.)
Empty Bottle has kind of a weird layout for a venue in that the stage is in a corner and the room is sort of L-shaped. So I had to make sure I had sight lines to his several possible exits, because I assumed he couldn’t stay for too long, he had his own set to prep for. After a couple of songs, Tim started moving and I just ambulance-chased so closely that Matt’s friends thought I’d already talked to him and he’d agreed and we were just walking off together to make it work.
There was a small clearing before he got to the door and as, I did with Martha Stewart, I tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to face me and it was right there. My face. I explained that he was my doppelgänger and asked if we could move somewhere with light and take a selfie. I’m not sure he fully engaged, nor that he thought he was looking at himself too. It’s maybe easier for me to think, that’s what I’d look like with a beard than for him to remember what his pre-beard face looked like. But he humored me and he found a light behind the window curtain which would suffice. He also immediately understood the assignment. He used his hand to cover his beard, I did the same, we took one selfie and he was gone.
And then it was done and I could enjoy the rest of the night. Matt seemed to know everyone in the crowed, all of whom seemed to be Oak Park parents. The owner, Bruce, showed up and we chatted with him for a bit.
I texted the photo to Pam, who said, “Omg. Good thing I know your wedding ring.” And she clearly showed it to the kids. One of whom guessed wrong. But texted, YOUR EYE COLOR LOOKS BROWN AND IT WAS MAKING ME SECOND GUESS MYSELF.”
In fairness, I had a bit of a hard time with it too. I posted on Facebook and many people guessed wrong, but most figured out which one I was.
The show itself was amazing and I was thankful I didn’t have to spend it wondering how I was going to meet him.
Watching Tim perform was just weird. He’d have an expression or make a face, and it would be my face. It was also a gift. I don’t have to wonder how I’d look with a beard. There it is. I don’t have to wonder what I would look like if I had tremendous self-confidence or at least zero inhibitions. There I am: Shirtless. Dancing. Throwing myself around. The clear center of attention at all times. He’s a world-class spit-taker.
Tim spends a fair amount of the show wandering through the crowd with a very long mic cord. At a couple of points he even walked out of the Bottle and was singing on the sidewalk and talking to passersby (or people who stepped out for a smoke.)
It’s kind of amazing that my doppelgänger is also in many ways therefore bizarro me.
I mean, my doppelgänger could have been an insurance guy, or a coder. Maybe we would have passed each other on a sidewalk or sat near each other on the el. But no, he’s a singer in a band, and I’m a guy who photographs bands.
He seemingly has no cares, and I wear a shirt when I’m swimming, though largely because I’m pasty. He “dances like no one is watching” but also knows that everyone is watching.
He also fronts a great band and played a heck of a set. 10/10, recommend.
After the show he was wandering through the dispersing crowd still. Matt said he saw them play a church once, and afterward the band shook everyone’s hand by the door as they left, like a priest at mass.
This was a little less structured, but no less sincere. He took more selfies with people who looked nothing like him, and were not as well lit. He hugged folks. He got some water from the blue cooler in the back, not the orange one next to it which he said (during the show when he also helped himself while still performing) “The orange one reminds me of Home Depot and they’re all MAGA now.”
I went over to thank him again for the selfie and tell him that one of my kids didn’t recognize me. He again was nice, but also seemed far off.
“Crazy kids,” he said., “Crazy kids.”