A Voice Silenced

Lynn Blakey's death is a loss to music in North Carolina and beyond

Lynn Blakey during her Let’s Active days. (Photo by Paul Moore; source — University of North Carolina at Greensboro)

When I moved from Texas to North Carolina in the mid 1990s, I had only an inkling of the fertile music scene waiting for me in the Tarheel State.

Of course, as a fan of R.E.M. and The dBs, I knew about Chris Stamey, Peter Holsapple, and Mitch Easter, who produced both groups’ early albums. And as a fan of the band Uncle Tupelo, I quickly glommed onto a new magazine with North Carolina ties (No Depression) that helped greatly expand my musical universe.

My wife and I had three kids between December 1996 and December 1997, so there wasn’t much time for live music, but I relished the 20-minute commute to work because I could listen to my new discoveries. Whiskeytown was the first “new” North Carolina band I recall becoming a fan of; others like Old Crow Medicine Show, 6 String Drag, the Avett Brothers, and American Aquarium soon would follow.

One night after we moved to Northern Virginia in 2001, I was in Raleigh working on a project and was told by a school PR friend about a new band (Tres Chicas) that I needed to see at a bar that night.

Caitlin Cary, who had been in Whiskeytown prior to its implosion, was in the group with Tonya Lamm and Lynn Blakey. They hadn’t recorded anything yet, but Cary and Blakey had backed up Alejandro Escovedo on 2001’s A Man Under the Influence, which was recorded in Chapel Hill and produced by Stamey.

Tres Chicas: Blakey (center) with Caitlin Cary (left) and Tonya Lamm

Being a longtime Escovedo fan and needing a live music fix, I was happy to check them out. Tres Chicas blew me away, especially Blakey and her amazing voice. I started searching out the rest of her catalogue, and discovered that she had played in numerous bands, including Easter’s Let’s Active and the group Oh-OK, which was fronted by Michael Stipe’s sister, Lydia. Her range was astounding.

It would be some time, however, before I discovered that Blakey was the inspiration for one of my all-time favorite songs — The Replacements’ “Left of the Dial.”

The Muse

According to Paul Westerberg, “Left of the Dial” was a “hidden love song.” He became infatuated with Blakey after his group toured with Let’s Active, but the relationship between two working musicians who were constantly on the road was doomed from the start.

“I figured the only way I’d hear her voice was with her band on the radio,” Westerberg told Rolling Stone. “We were passing through a town somewhere, and she was doing an interview on the radio, left of the dial. I heard her voice for the first time in six months for about a minute. Then the station faded out.”

And a classic song was born.

Blakey, like too many talented musicians on this planet, never made it to the “big time” (whatever that is). But she has a body of work that you should definitely check out.

In addition to Tres Chicas, which released two lovely albums on YepRoc (2004’s Sweetwater and 2006’s Bloom, Red & The Ordinary Girl), Blakey was in numerous bands in and around the Chapel Hill area. 2002’s The Beauty of 23 by Glory Fountain is, in my view, a pop masterpiece.

Cancer, College, and Tributes

In 2022, Blakey was diagnosed with cancer and went through chemotherapy and surgery. At 61, she went back to college at the University of North Carolina at Greenboro to earn an online degree in Peace and Conflict Studies, but had to leave when the cancer came back.

Blakey died last week at age 63. Her last recordings appear on 2025’s A Brief History of Blindness, an international power-pop effort by The Salt Collective. She sings the title track and a duet with R.E.M.’s Mike Mills (“In the Shadow of the Moon”) on the album, which was released in November and features Stamey, Easter, and Aimee Mann, among others.

There have been many terrific tributes to Blakey, none more eloquent or poignant than these two pieces (here and here) by David Menconi, a longtime music critic for the Raleigh News & Observer.

From Menconi’s blog: “When the new Salt Collective album came out a few months back, I wrote, ‘Whenever Lynn Blakey sings, an angel gets its wings.’ And in death, she made one last gallant act of generosity by giving some lucky soul out there the gift of sight. Yes, she donated her eyes — and this after co-writing and singing ‘A Brief History of Blindness,’ the title track of that Salt Collective LP.”

Wow.

Menconi also shared a Spotify playlist compiled by Chris Stamey after Blakey’s death. I realize many have issues with Spotify, but “Lynn Blakey: An Introduction” is as good a place to start as any if you want to hear someone whose talents are greatly missed.