Memphis musician Clay Hardee aka Clay Otis dies at 35

Memphis musician Clay Hardee has died. Known for recent string of albums released under his stage name Clay Otis, the 35-year-old had been staying with friends in Atlanta when he was found unresponsive early Thursday morning. The cause of death is unknown.

News about Hardee – an ebullient and much-loved figure about town – sent a shock through Memphis' music community, particularly among the core of players and producers from Crosstown’s High/Low studio, where he worked regularly.

“Clay lived life to the fullest. That’s how he approached it,” said High/Low owner and longtime Hardee collaborator Toby Vest. “He was a true Memphis original and a true believer in the mystical power of this city to transform people. He was a force of nature who pushed everyone around him to be a better person even when he was struggling with his own demons.”

Hardee grew up in Panama City Beach, Florida, "where it's spring break forever," he recalled in a 2014 interview with The Commercial Appeal (his stage moniker was not a reference to former Hi Records soul singer Otis Clay, but rather a childhood nickname). He attended film school at the University of Central Florida before getting kicked out. Hardee came to Memphis in 2007, originally to make a documentary on local indie-rock band Snowglobe. That project fell apart, but he began writing a script and sourcing money for another film. In the process, he soon fell in with brothers Toby and Jake Vest, the musical siblings behind bands such as Augustine, Bulletproof Vests and Tiger High and local recording studio High/Low.

“He would hang out at the studio and watch us do our thing,” recalled Toby Vest. “He came in one night and was like, ‘I got this song, I wrote this song.’ And so Jake said, ‘Let’s record it.’ That was in 2010 — and that pretty much started it. It definitely became an instant passion for him. He wasn’t the most naturally musical person, but he knew how to put people in place to make the things he wanted to make — it’s an impressive skill.”

Over the next several years, Hardee would release a succession of solo records and band projects ranging from party-pop to cutting rock: “Clay Otis and the Showbiz Lights”; “The Overachiever”; “Citizen Clay”; and “Clay Otis and Shadow Brother.”

“He basically made five records in five and a half years,” noted Vest. “A guy with no ambition to do this six years ago was making records with serious musicians, and nobody took him any less seriously. That was how strong his vision and passion were.”

Otis' songs were often ruminations on love and death delivered in a darkly comic manner. "As a songwriter, I'm blunt and direct. I like to think I'm like a Chuck D for white people," Hardee noted, citing the stentorian frontman for rap group Public Enemy. "There are these things going on in the world that are discussed in the news, but only in an abstract way. We don't get any sincere stories about that stuff.”

Just a week ago, Hardee had celebrated the release of his latest album, “ADDults,” with a show at Bar DKDC in Cooper-Young. Addiction was another frequent topic for Hardee, particularly the epidemic of prescription drug abuse rampant in his native Florida.

“A lot of the stuff he talked about was based on his own experiences, but also came from watching people he grew with up fall into that Panama City party lifestyle and fall apart,” said Vest. “That really informed a lot of his writing. His sensitivity towards other humans is what’s really reflected in his music and his lyrics — and how deeply he felt those things.”

For a couple years, Hardee had been splitting time between Memphis and Northern California, where he’d gotten a job working for a wine brokerage in Napa. More recently, he returned full time to the Bluff City, where he continued to write film scripts and songs.

Funeral services for Hardee — which are expected to place in Florida — are pending. Vest says he will try to organize a Memphis remembrance of some kind in the next week.

“He really knew how to prop up his friends and encourage them, and encourage them to be their best," Vest said. "That was something that really came through in the way he worked with people in the studio and on stage. I’m just glad to have known him and glad to have made those records with him. Because they’re gonna be here for years, even though he’s gone.”