Letter To Tom Chaplin

Wednesday, Aug. 23, 2006 - 7:37 p.m.

Dear Tom,

I suppose I know in my head that you're never actually going to read this, but that's okay, because it will make me feel better in my heart to write this anyway. I'm a big fan of your work, and even though I founded and maintain the Keane diaryring here on Diaryland, no less than four of my friends have sent me the news about your travails. It's okay, though, their hearts are in the right place, and I know they are all as concerned for you as I am.

When I first read the news over on the BBC about your health issues, and then about the reasons behind them, I was heartbroken. Not because I might not get to see my favorite group in person for awhile, but because I know you've been working so hard, and sometimes there's just no other way to keep up except with help. When I was in high school, the very same thing happened to me in my final year. I was so busy with so many things that I'd take speed on Wednesdays to keep me awake until the weekend, and then I'd just collapse and sleep most of that time away until Monday. Somehow I got through my final year with mostly good grades, but it cost me my health in a multitude of ways that I'm still paying for today.

Now, a quarter century later, I'm revisiting those times as I see what you've been having to do to keep up the breakneck pace.

And the reason I'm heartbroken is because you've given of yourself until there's nearly nothing left. When I met you in June of 2004 and spoke to you, you had just 'hit' in your home country, but hadn't done so here yet. You guys were so kind to the dozen or so of us who showed up at the instore in Denver when I was there with Todd Thalimer; after your set, and as you were all getting set up to do an autograph session for us, I remember practicing a bunch of wistful and memorable things to tell you and then when the moment came, opening my mouth and being utterly surprised at what came out: "You need to drink extra water while you're here in Denver or the altitude is going to kill you." And you took my hand, made eye contact with me, said thanks, and then you leaned in and whispered to me "You know what, I also think I'm coming down with a cold." You refused my offer of a lozenge, and then I had to move on and I think I told the other fellas the same thing -- but upon reflection, I don't think you told anybody else that same thing during that signing. Didn't anybody else even -try- to say something helpful to you? Was everybody else there just to get a signature or a photo? Was I the only person there who spoke to you as one human being to another? How on earth does anybody look into that kind face and not acknowledge the unique person there?

I am beyond grateful that Keane has done the near-impossible, namely, bring a great body of work like 'Hopes and Fears' to an audience who has nearly been rapped or bubblegummed or bellybutton-girl'ed to death. It's probably going to always be in my top ten albums of all time. I play keyboard, and I'm grateful for the largest resurgence of interest in piano-based pop since the death of Vince Guaraldi. And with 'Under The Iron Sea', Keane has managed to accomplish the rare deed of creating a successful sophomore album, unlike a lot of artists who peak and then slump. I'm amazed by everything you lads have done.

But, Tom -- It would be all right with me if you never sang another note in public, and if you walked away from all of this.

Nothing on the face of this planet is worth your health and your peace of mind. If Keane never does another thing, that's not a problem with me. I'd rather you get out of the business if this is what it's going to cost you. I'd rather just know you are happy and healthy and existing quietly somewhere instead of spreading yourself too thin.

In any regard, I know you are finally getting some treatment for what ails you, and I also know you have a tour to finish. You're a good man to try and get through that.

But afterwards -- walk away if you need to. I'll adore you just the same.

With deepest respect,

Brin-Marie McLaughlin
San Francisco, CA

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