Jack

Over the weekend, we lost Jack Rose, a good friend from "the old days" and a fine guitarist of some renown.

Around 1993, I decided I wasn't going anywhere concrete with college, and dropped out for a few semesters. I spent said semesters doing a lot of growing up down in Richmond, working temp jobs and playing music at night. That's where I met Jack, a good friend (and future bandmate) of my neighbors Mike and Amy. He was, at the time, in a fairly noisy, angsty band called Ugly Head. I loved 'em - still do. Mike, Amy, Jack, Ugly Head's bassist Patrick, and I had some great times, which eventually led into what I consider to be one of my finer musical adventures - the "pre-post-rock" Gospel Midgets, with Jack, Mike and our friend Tommy - and the formation of the Klang recording society.

One of my favorite Jack memories is of a weekend in, I think, 1994 - the weekend Mike and Amy got married. The night before, Jack and I headed up to DC to see Pitchblende at the old 9:30 club. (Jack was never much for the "DC scene" of the early 90s, but then again, neither was Pitchblende, really.) On the way back, we remembered Mike and Amy's wedding reception. Fear not, Jack said, we'll stop at this flea market somewhere between Massaponax and Thornburg. Jack bought a velvet painting of a pirate ship, as I recall. I was a bit low on cash, so all I could afford was a "skinny Elvis" beach towel. (It's the thought that counts, right?) Always the improviser, Jack found an appropriate wrapping material: a box for a 12-pack of Carling Black Label. It's a silly story, really, but that's how I remember him: happy; really into music; loyal to his friends.

Eventually, our little Richmond crew entered the diaspora phase. We're now spread over at least two time zones and twice as many area codes. The last time i saw Jack was, I think, about six years ago, at the last Gospel Midgets show (where "last" now means "final" as well as "most recent.") Not long after that, my life took a variety of turns (most of them good) and I fell out of touch. From time to time, I wished I'd taken the time to reconnect. I definitely feel that way now.

Thanks for everything, Jack. From the late-night sessions to the crazed road trips to the sipping a beer out on Oregon Hill, I've got a lot of great memories. You're gone, but can't possibly be forgotten. Safe travels, my friend.

Dec 7, '09, 10:28 PM