Unheralded Neo-Soul Architect, Dominique Trenier, Has Died
Music is full of tangible heroics--the kind we applaud onstage or in-session. Artists rise to great heights and fall to humble lows on the strength of their own creative powers and human failings...or so it seems. Cliché or not, it's true that an artist is only as strong as the team they've assembled around themselves--and in the case of Dominique Trenier, the team could be just one man.
Last night, friends and family, blood and extended, gathered at Joe's Pub in NYC to toast to the late Trenier, who passed on August 4th of congestive heart failure. Based on the configuration of the evening's roster, those that knew him were not typically of civilian rank. Much of Dom's work--with Nikka Costa, with Mark Ronson, with D'Angelo--took place in circumstances you'd rather not know that your favorite artists were ever subject to. Yet he succeeded, and in that, they succeeded.
The stories shared this evening ranged from ducking a certain large and scary west coast rap figure to getting picked up--literally--by security at a club after telling Prince his best work was for Warner Bros. There were plenty more, but most were inadmissible under the watchful eye and ear of Dom's mother, Adrienne Texeira.
The remembrances were plentiful, colorful and contextual, providing rare glimpses into a brilliantly frantic mind that sparked a shift in the landscapes of music and film. Malik Yoba read a poem in Dom's honor, referencing the "musician to magician" as if he were of truly cosmic descent; a star that fell to us only to realize greatness in himself and his circle. It was "the details" that set Dom miles--lightyears--apart from your run-of-the-mill music manager, as former partner and lifelong friend Jodie Patterson read in her eulogy. When industry protocols called for informal invites to D'Angelo's Brown Sugar release party, Dom sent personalized copies of the album to his attendees, featuring an opening poem from Ursula Rucker and a few never-heards to entice his prospective patrons. The details, man. The ones that click into place immediately no matter how left-field they seemed. Dom was telling you what you needed well before you even knew.
Sad though the occasion was, the tributes were especially welcome because Dom was the type of talent we too often forget to thank...if only because they are the talents that prefer the quiet victories while hoping for the loud ones. And the loud ones came, no doubt. But by the time you realized whose brain was behind it, they'd moved onto their next pursuit, their next selfless win. Had everyone Dom touched over the years spoke this evening, the weekend would have been blocked off, hotel accommodations booked. But you didn't need to hear from Dave Chappelle or Questlove or D or Costa (all were in attendance) to know just what their late friend had imparted to them: relentless creativity, impossible optimism. The coach, the cheerleader and the front office all balled up into one perpetually radiant personality; taking pride in the shared and respective successes of his clients, all friends.
Jodie recalled one anecdote Questlove had mentioned to her that will stay with us:
Asked what inspired him to become a businessman he replied, "I'm not a businessman, I'm a Dom."
Look far, look wide, look the world over and you'll still never find a spirit as devoted to excellence as Michel Dominique Trenier. Rest with the best, legend.
