remembering cosmo

The Dirty Lenin family lost one of our own. Jim Wagner (aka Cosmo Politan), our original/only bassist, recently, unexpectedly passed away. 

We met Jim through a friend of ours who was dating him at the time. We were a bunch of stage actors, writers, and directors who thought starting a band amidst the ruins of September 11 would be fun. We wanted to put together a HUGE CONCERT (just miles from Madison Squares Garden) to pay tribute to the poor Afghani children who would not be able to celebrate Christmas that year. Dirty Lenin was going to be an energetic  performance art rock band (vaguely Eastern-European, who sang in perfect English with our brand of SPAP, or “Super Party Alterna-Pop” music.) who asked for nothing but to live the American Dream of Rock & Roll.

Jim was the final piece of the initial puzzle when Dirty Lenin formed. He was by far the most talented and musically knowledgeable amongst the rest of us. Jim wasn’t an actor himself, but boy was he a ham. He took to his role of Cosmo (alongside his brothers Neo and Metro Politan, and Tatiana and Contessa and NéNé) with tremendous gusto, completely unafraid to make himself look like a fool alongside the rest of us. He got us, and we got him. 

His was the soul of the band. We unlocked a goofiness in him that I think he relished. 

He helped Dirty Lenin create their origin story. Just so damn smart and varied in his interests, it was his suggestion of a Bruegel painting, “The Land of Cockaigne,” that led us to create our home country of Cockaignistan, a former Soviet-bloc country. Dirty Lenin would go on to become “The Best Damn Band from Cockaignistan” largely due to the riffs Jim brought playing his Bass of Destiny. The parts he contributed to all our songs were equally tight and playful, and were always spot on perfect in carrying the groove. Jim created our early posters, which I now must absolutely scan and put online. It was his room in the famous Music Building near Penn Station where we rehearsed and gelled our ridiculously fun shows. 

Jim was also our tech guru. That said, if you knew Jim, you’d be right to guess our tech was always an issue. He created our first website (from scratch! That man knew Dreamweaver!!). It took forever to load, and wouldn’t display properly on some computers. I remember when we played on the back of a flatbed truck we had decorated for the Halloween Parade in the Village. He was in charge of the generator. Of course it went out pretty early on, and we played our set only hearing the drums, while he furiously worked away on fixing the generator. Knowing Jim’s tech prowess (he was actually really good at it; we just had bad luck), Tess and I asked him to handle the tech for our wedding, which got screwed up a few times. Knowing Jim was on the job when it came time to update our site, program our CD-ROM, or monkeying around with the rehearsal room mixer always gave me an uneasy stomach. But I’d have it no other way. 

Onstage, Jim was extremely adept at disconnecting my guitar cable in the middle of a song. In one of our films he improvised a scene where he was confronted, confused, and eventually challenged by his own reflection in the mirror. We got it in one take. He was that good. 

In the band, he frustrated me often, but I loved him anyway. Because I trusted him implicitly. And when things went right… well, it’s a shame more people didn’t see the magic he made. He “got” what we were doing, and put his whole body into it. He bravely stripped down to his elephant underwear for our first film, and for many shows. Come to think of it, I’m not sure it was that brave. I think he just looked forward to it. 

Jim claimed to know something about everything, yet back then we didn’t have pocket computers to check on his assertions. So we coined the term “Jimformation,” whenever he authoritatively said something which didn’t sound 100% real. It’s a term Tess and I use to this day. 

Dirty Lenin scattered to the wind years ago, but we all remain good friends. Jim was the only one still out east when the pandemic hit, and I got the bright idea to start making music videos again. I knew he wasn’t playing much anymore, but I couldn’t make a Dirty Lenin video without him. So I cobbled together some old footage and put him in our Space Quarantine video. For the Denial video he was able to film himself doing a fun bit and send it so I could drop it into the rest of the video. Of course it took longer than it should to get to me because there were tech issues. 🤣 

After that video, Jim kind of stopped contributing to the band. I had also stopped asking for his input. He was going through some things and I didn’t want to bother him. I always thought we’d play together again, so I took time for granted. 

When it comes right down to it, Jim… ehr, Cosmo, our delightful, idiot brother, was pure Awesome. There aren’t many people with such a loving, generous soul as him. We’re going to miss him an awful lot. 

Selfishly, I’m sad because if we ever get around to legitimately recording all our songs, Cosmo won’t be involved, and the general public will never hear that extra bit of magic he brought to each song. It was a talent he was gifted with from the first time he, as a wee baby giant, escaped the methane plantations of Cockaignistan with his Politan brothers, and his metaphorical sisters, and found stardom in the USA.

Also, forgive the crude nature of this page. I’d have asked Jim to make it, and he would have made it beautiful, but I know he’d still be tinkering on it. Godspeed, Cosmo.

🎶 “Cosmo bought the single!” 🎵

March 6, 1965 - August 11, 2024