Keith's laugh still rings in my soul, a haunting echo of a man who painted thoughts with the cajones of a Rebel soldier. A learned artist, bold yet gentle, his spirit danced a strange waltz—easy to love, hard to fathom. He'd jaw with firebrands of the Alt-Right and BLM folks alike, never raising a fist, only his voice, firm but fair. He'd hear you out, nod to your truth, then lay his own on the table, unbowed by the crowd's scorn. In this age of clamor, his quiet tolerance was a rare gold, long vanquished by the rage-bait that passes for modern-contraption discourse. His heart roamed from the unhinged left to the unflinching right, seeking the middle ground before he met his end in the spring of 2020. Atlanta lawmen called it self-murder, but shadows cloak the tale. Controversy dogged him, while chemicals lubricated his scholarly intelligence.
Keith was an American. A Southerner. A writer. A musician. A visual artist. A podcast and radio personality. A reality TV participant on Netflix. A complex organism. A friend.
A somber reckoning on Keith E. Lee's legacy—his melodies, his brushstrokes, his scribblin's, his turn on reality's stage, and his fiery days co-hosting a scandalous podcast. Herein lies the curious tale of the Lee's Brigade 91.1 FM WREK Sunday Specials, shared with his former long-time mate, Lynn Lee. Herein lies a library of sonic escapades worth digesting. Each Sunday Special is radio at its underground best. And don't pass up Keith's writing talents, neither. Spread his word far and wide, folks. He was a slice of American authenticity, served up Southern-style, standing proud.
On the Art page, ye'll find Keith's pen work and comics, a gallery of lines that start with the sweet ache of Americana, then wander through punk's snarl and politics' thorns, afore settlin' into tender portraits of comrades. He toiled in other crafts too—behold a lightbox, glowin' lonesome at the section's end.
A lifelong devotion to music coursed through Keith's veins—he plunged deep, a scholar of sound and a mighty fine guitar strummer. I was his eager pupil as he spun tales of forgotten minstrels, their recordin' days, the echoes of history in their notes, and the shadows they cast on others. He'd speak of Scott Walker, Joanna Newsom, Captain Beefheart, The Residents, Brian Eno, Brian Cook, and Brian Wilson with his Beach Boys, his voice heavy with reverence. Round Atlanta, he was the axe man for King Kill 33°, a shadowy artrock crew, conjurin' cinematic rebellion. Later, he lent his strings to The Hookers, Snatch, Bride Stripped Bare, Liars Club, and Envie. He sang and laid down Met Her at a Murder Trial with Vanessa Silberman, poured his soul into solo shows, and joined BOB for live gigs and studio shenanigans round the mid 1990s.
91.1 FM WREK, Georgia Tech's wild-hearted, student-run station, has spun its eclectic tunes since the late 1960s. As Lee's Brigade, DJs Keith and Lynn Lee assembled a rich tapestry of music's past, or plumbed the depths of lone artists, for these soul-stirrin' two-hour broadcasts. Chris Campbell, an experienced WREK hand, lent his wisdom to the Lees, delivering radio at its purest. Lee's Brigade aired from 2003 to 2013. Press the buttons below to hear their specials, carved into 30-minute chunks. Thanks to Chris, all twenty-eight of 'em await y'all here.
On the Word page, ye'll unearth a trove of Keith's published scribblin's on familiar themes and music's lore. His words are sturdy, spare, and sharp, unveilin' a mind ever-growin', open to the world's winds. In our talks, a rare privilege, even when the bottle had him, his thoughts held a fearsome clarity—mostly.
Keith took on the guise of a White Nationalist in the fifth episode, “Outside the Box,” of Netflix's reality spectacle Trigger Warning with Killer Mike. Mike's “super group” was a motley crew of songsmiths, each tasked with craftin' a rap for the others to judge. Astonishin'ly, they let Keith keep the words “white nigger” in his verse. When they sang it at The Georgia Theatre in Athens, the lukewarm crowd fell into a stunned hush as Keith's words closed the tune. Punk as the devil's own. He'd have made any rebel proud. Later, he spoke well of the ordeal, though the director carved out bits to paint him fiercer than he was. We scarce see the parley 'twixt Keith, the BLM firebrand, and the gay activist. Keith said his use of that cursed word aimed inward, a mirror to his rough redneck roots. A shame we saw so little—those who knew him understood his mind ran deeper than a time-strapped show could hold.
“Jim Goad's Group Hug Podcast” cast Keith as a trusty sidekick from episodes 3 to 45, a wild ride through the underbelly of thought. In episode 15, set in Portland, Oregon, Keith's mind was adrift on strange tides, much to Goad's chagrin—he weren't amused a lick. Episode 35 unleashed a fiery reckonin' on the Beatles' societal sway, laced with sharp jabs 'bout transgender folk, Jews, blacks, whites, and the Nation of Islam's Louis Farrakhan. Goad, in a fit of dark fancy, wished he could raise the two dead Beatles just to strike 'em down again. Was the show a touch unorthodox? Sure as sin. But when Goad brought in a new voice, he ran Keith off—likely 'cause Keith, deep down, still carried a torch for them Beatles. Here's the den where ye can get yer feathers ruffled: Jim Goad.net.
Bands that featured the guitar talents of Mr. Lee:
King Kill 33° • Liar's Club • Snatch • The Hookers • BOB • envie
King-Kill 33° released a handful of singles and compilation appearances in their three years, but they truthfully had to be experienced live to be fully appreciated. More effectively than any other local group at the time, and usually more effectively than any visual-oriented group anywhere, King-Kill utilized an armory of films, slides, strobes, transparencies, and other sorts of visual overload, projected against and behind them as they played. Add to this Foy's affinity for provoking performance art and costumes (his most memorable outfit involved crude stilts made from "blocks of wood two feet high, with some old sneakers bolted into the top of 'em", on which he would teeter above the crowd and his band mates), and King-Kill/33° was an act not soon forgotten.
Singer and songwriter. Lynn Lee handled video during live performance. Laurie G-force on bass... Donna Smith sang, too.
Liar's Club music posted by Keith on his YouTube channel.
Keith co-wrote all of Snatch's 2nd cd Cornbread & Alister Meowly, sang on a couple of songs and drew the back cover art.
He was a full member in Snatch (pun intended). He also toured with us to the west coast.
Here's a Snatch 7" single called 666 put out by Atlanta record label Worrybird Records in 1992, owned by David T Lindsay. Keith did not play on 666.
Keith on guitar. Thys McGoran vocals. Jeff on drums.
Czech Mike led this unit with cuttings and blood-letting. Twas a bloody good time brought to us with the supporting cast of Keith E Lee, Ray Surinck, and a crew of others. The Hookers epitomized a thriving 90's Atlanta music scene offering up the unexpected. The sense that anything could happen made attending any shows involving Keith E Lee worth the time. His guitar work alone was pleasing to six-string enthusiasts. You were wise to stand back a respectable distance, especially if you were wearing white.
Keith joined BOB for live gigs in 94 and 95 to play on "Animal Speak". For the studio version recorded at Bakos Amp Works, Keith brought an assortment of guitar effects, as well as a metal fan. "Rounded At The Free End" was BOB's follow up album to "Complex Organism Blues". Hear all 7 tracks that comprised the studio version of "Animal Speak" with Mr. Lee.
Renee Nelson was the vocalist and main songwriter, playing the keyboard and harp. Michael Overstreet wrote the lyrics. Envie had several musicians throughout its life. The 2012 EP, Super8hero, featured Keith E Lee on guitar, Sean Moore on drums and Rich Hudson on bass.