Posts filed under ‘They Served’

How to Say Goodbye, or a Jager for the Road

Photo by Melissa Zahnweh (Bells Bells Bells, Floozy, Undergirl)

From Paul Dellevigne:

I found out tonight (courtesy of Dave Lorenz) that his name in Polish means “good will”.

How appropriate. He gave me my first bar booking ten years ago, and he and Dave Rogers gave me my first bartending job over five years ago.

And in between he was there for me more times than I can count.

It wasn’t always pretty. More often than not, his advice hurt, hti you right to the core, but it was almost always right, and he always meant what he said.

He would hurt you sometimes, his honesty cutting you to the quick, and in a blink of an eye, he would realize that he hurt you and take you aside to apologize and make sure you understood that he was just exaggerating to make a point. Then, after he calmed you down, he’d sit with his drink and make sure to say, “It’s true, though.”

When my band stopped playing certain songs, he was livid. “You have three absolute fucking hit songs, and you’re too much of a pussy to demand that everyone just shut up and play them!” He was convinced that one day the Sinners would hit it.

Then, when he first heard Dave’s other band, El Dorado, he took me aside and told me, “They’re good. If you want to keep Dave in your band you better step it up.”

I never did.

He shouldered me through every broken relationship and did his damnedest to make sure I never did anything stupid, even when it meant forcing me to crash at his place.

When Tara came with me to TriTone for Skinny Dave’s memorial service just a few weeks ago, he took me aside, hugged me, and said, “It’s about time.”

Goddammit he cared so much that the only time he ever yelled at me and meant it was when I held my problems from him. “Dammit, Paul, how the hell can I help you if you don’t tell me when something’s wrong?”

After Skinny Dave died, another friend, Bruce, died. I talked to Rick about it and told him that our friend Kevin Karg was trying to find out what happened. Rick called Kevin to tell him personally. Kevin then asked how Rick was doing overall.

“I’d be fine,” Rick said, “If only everyone would stop dying.”

He had a heart attack less than a month later.

One more person has died, and I’m not going to be okay with it for a very long time.

In my heart, I want to say so much more about this man, but I truly don’t know what else to say except that he was so strong for so many people I just can’t believe we have to go it without him now.

In the long run, it makes sense that he had a heart attack. He carried so many people in there for so long, I guess something had to give eventually, and he just never stopped caring about the rest of us.

We’re going to bury Rick in the morning. I can’t tell you how much it hurts to say that.

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April 15, 2007 at 11:33 pm Leave a comment

Rick D Memorial

man in red

From Gringo Motel’s myspace blog 

Hey everyone,

Thanks for all of your kind words regarding Rick D. I was able to get two questions answered, his age and the date of the funeral.

This is from my friend Honey.

Rick was 40, turning 41 on July 4th.

His memorial is:

>

> Thursday, April 12th

> 10-11 Family available

> 11-12 Memorial Service

>

> Freed John R Funeral Home Incorporated

> 124 N Easton Rd

> Glenside, PA 19038

> (215) 884-1900

there will be a more festive event at the Tritone


April 10, 2007 at 12:45 pm Leave a comment

Punk Rock Heaven

From The Phila City Paper

Also, Chuck Meehan alerted me to the ultimate historical tribute thread on Philly Shreds.

April 10, 2007 at 2:10 am Leave a comment

In His Own Words

rick d

From PW via Phawker

April 9, 2007 at 4:41 pm Leave a comment

Cracking the Code

I’m mourning Rick D but I’m not gonna be nostalgic and say the 90s were better than the 00s. I’d say that every time has its highs and lows. There are very few places where I feel like I belong. For me, real life was never really Fugazi. Back in the early-mid 90s, I was a wide-eyed stupid, crazy kid just trying to find my way, instead of a tired, stupid, crazy old lady still trying to make my way today. The time before the internet was a little more innocent and a little dirtier. You had to go out into stinky bars and awkwardly face people to find out anything or at least call them up on the telephone and have awkward conversations.

In 1993, I started writing for the Philadelphia Weekly towards the end of the Welcomat era, when it was like a fanzine for grumpy old men. Strangely, grumpy old men were my early advocates. We had some sort of mutual understanding. Old men understand sadness and weirdness and angst. It doesn’t scare them one bit. I found them dignified instead of old and they weren’t too busy proving themselves to give you the time of day. They didn’t make me feel bad for not knowing something, they made me feel honored to find out abou it. They talked to me like a person. Gender and age were incidentals. We were all just misfits at the end of the day.

Young indie dudes expected young indie girls to be fourth grade crush innocent or to be tomboys. People cloaked their emotions in faux sincerity or irony. They called me a sellout for writing for the pittance that the Weekly paid me and not a fanzine, for not being there when they were, for not being a member of the club. No one admitted to being any kind of sexual being or even admitted they had bodies. Look at the oversized T-shirts and flannels. Everyone was just a walking, talking jukebox of wit. All smart-ass but not really smart. I still wanted to crack the code.

Back then I was curious about everything and there was no internet. So I’d call up promoters and ask them what bands they were booking. This is how I really learned about music. Two of the people I talked to the most were Bryan Dilworth (back when he booked The Khyber) and Rick D. Bryan wasn’t a big phone guy, so I used to go to his house in Old City and pick up records (back when he ran Compulsiv) and talk music. But Rick and I were on the phone for hours. He’d fax over some scrawled out schedule to The Weekly and I’d call to be debriefed. He frequently loaned me CD’s just because it was crazy that I’d never heard about Band___. I had a lot to learn. I still do.

Obviously, it’s easier now to just to go to bands’ websites and myspace pages, but something’s lost in the translation. Being a human being. Today, whenever a young, curious, hungry, lost person calls me up or e-mails me or approaches me in a bar, I give him or her whatever I have. Whatever piece of myself will help them along in the world. Rick D wouldn’t do it any other way and neither would I.

April 9, 2007 at 2:03 pm Leave a comment

Rick D RIP

rick d behind the bar

Photo from Philadelphia City Paper’s First Look at Tritone

I’m shocked to even type this. Just found out through Paul Dellevigne that Rick D co-owner of Tritone passed away from a heart attack just a few hours ago.

I’ve known Rick D for over a decade, first as a music journo, back when he booked The Firenze, JC Dobbs, and Upstairs at Nick’s. He was an early supporter and adopter of all kinds of punk bands, most famously booking Green Day at Dobbs pre-Dookie. He also ran a label called Black Hole and was in a band called the Newbyles. He probably has a history pre-bar scene, but someone older and wiser than me should fill in the gaps.

As a promoter, he’s been a big supporter of all of my endeavors: Plain Parade, Sugar Town, etc.

He had a big punk rock heart, a great sense of humor, and a love of all genres of music. He wore a leather vest like no one else. Some of my fave Rick D sayings: “They call it Drag City cause it’s a draaaaaaaaaaag.” “If you wanna make money get a day job.” “That band can’t even draw a picture in this town.”

This is a loss for me and an even bigger loss for the Philadelphia music scene. Truly the end of an era. A plate of pierogies and a special will never be the same.

I’m sorry if this sounds cheesy. I really don’t know what else to say.

If anyone has any memories or info they want to leave in the comments, fire away. Or if you prefer: sarasherrATgmailDOTcom

UPDATE: A tribute from Punky Mama

April 7, 2007 at 11:10 pm 2 comments

Bruce Langfeld RIP

bruce

Just found out about this a couple of hours ago and I’ve been on the phone about it since then. I haven’t seen Bruce in years. I didn’t know him well, but I knew him through old Tower South Street co-workers, old Welcomat (pre-PW), and music scene friends. He was very smart, talented, with a dry wit on the outside and a sweet core in the inside. I’m very sorry to see him go, especially since the obit says that he was struggling with loneliness and depression. When people leave this Earth not understanding they were truly loved, it’s a very sad thing. My heart goes out to his biological and musical family.

UPDATE: Since the toxicology reports are still coming in, it’s best not to jump to conclusions of suicide. If he was taking a lot of meds for depression, there’s a chance that side effects from a certain combination of meds could have been lethal. The second-to-last line was coming from a person living with depression, when you really don’t feel like you’re worth a damn no matter how many people around you show their love and support. Anyway, I hope this clarifies things.

March 22, 2007 at 12:48 pm 1 comment

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