Youth is wasted on the young. The phrase contains all the mechanics of linear time, all the inevitable one way-ness of it, the push towards whatever is tied up in the choices we can’t understand. In the midst of seemingly limitless powers to abuse yourself, to indulge yourself, it’s clear and painfully obvious that those powers aren’t enough. If we had known what we know as soon-to-be-40 year olds; that our solid ideas about love, friendship and music would fail us in time, we just would have pushed everything harder. Maybe we would have savored it more. Maybe our ignorance saved us.
During the pure exhilaration of youthful excess my twin brother and I met Tariq Mills, a tall, lanky, funny and very talented drummer. He was the most explosive, unpredictable and fearless musician I had met and with him we formed a band to match, an exhausting prog-punk three piece. We practiced, we partied, we loved, we toured, we fought. On our worst days he was still a thrilling musician to watch and some of the best moments I ever had or will ever have on stage were with him and my brother. At the very least I am indebted to him, he helped me connect to music in ways I dreamed about; in ways that were as close to spiritual as I can get.
The last time we saw each other we weren’t on speaking terms. That was 12 years ago now. Despite that I am deeply saddened by news of his passing and my heart goes out to his wife and their son who will be born in April. From the pictures and stories he will hear, I hope he knows that on stage his Dad burned so very bright and gave us all something we can never thank him for.
photos by: Ellen Wright, Rob Queenin, Jessica Marshall, Darrin Armijo-Wardle
