320 thoughts on “Matthew Sperry Departs”

1. Still in shock, and words fail. It is good to read what has been posted previously, obviously many people have felt what I have in knowing Matt. When I joined the Angry Inch in January, I was treated to an experience I’ll never forget with a person I’ll never forget, a swift kick in the musical arse and a smile that always assured that no matter how brutally honest a comment was, there was a healthy dose of love along with it. I sat next to Matt almost every night for over four months, applying ludicrous makeup and trading good-natured jabs, never quite able to keep up with his hilarious wit. I’m proud and very fortunate to have had the opportunity to rock alongside such an exemplary musician, who made that cheap-ass ibanez bass sound impossibly wide and fat. No matter how hard I tried to keep frowning onstage while we were all supposed to act like sullen eastern european rockers, if I could see the slightest glimmer in his eye or curl at the corner of his mouth at one of Hedwig’s jokes, I would break character and bust out laughing. Words continue to fail. I love you Matt. The world was a better place with you in it.

2. And, the some die too young

   Matthew Sperry…

3. I feel fortunate for getting to know Matthew as a person and as a musician over the last few years. He had such purely positive energy, even when being grumpy! When I called him about playing at the San Francisco Music Festival last month, he was on for it right away, as always, even though he had to rush to get to a Hedwig show right after. Here’s the last email that I received from him, originally about that SFMF, but now reads more broadly:

   I had a great time!

   XXOO,

   Matthew

   One of the last times I saw him — which I can’t describe without starting to cry, but here goes — here’s the image of him that I’ll remember: At the Ashkenaz in Berkeley in late April, after playing a benefit, lying on his back with Lila on top of him, totally happy.

4. One could always tell when Matt was coming, a big hug rolling across the fields always preceeded his physical manifestation

5. When I think of Matt Sperry, I think of someone with unbounded curiosity, experiencing each moment anew, with unabashed innocence and love. He was a sublimely beautiful spirit, filled with playfulness, and I always picture him with a broad grin, because I rarely saw him any other way.

   I think Jason nailed it when he called him an angel. Matt harbored no fear or anger that I can ever recall.

   I’d known Matt since his high school days in North Miami Beach, and he was a large part of the reason I relocated from South Florida to Seattle. It is because of him that I know the wonderful people that I now know in Seattle, as well as many fine eateries. While I didn’t usually interact directly with him musically, I remember him as an intrepid explorer in his music, and in his life.

   He turned me on to more new things than anyone I’ve ever known. We are told that we should stop and smell the roses every once in a while. Matt spent his entire life stopping, smelling them, spending a week with them, then going on to share them with everyone else. His mission was to show the rest of us what we were missing.

   Regretfully, I fell out of touch with Matt around the time he met Stacia, and have only been in occasional email contact since then. I was always counting on seeing him again one day and learning more about what his life had become. Through these messages, I can see just how much more love he found with Stacia and Lila. My heart aches for them and their immeasurable loss.

   Thank you so much to the parties responsible for giving us all this place to share our memories of Matthew. My sorrow is tempered by seeing how much he loved, and was loved in the short time he was with us.

   We miss you Matt.

6. what this world needs most is more people like Matthew Sperry. His compassion, kind heartedness and patience was evident and abundant from the first time I met him. I didn’t get to hear him play as much as I wanted too, but the times I did, the music always put a smile on my face. The world suffered a great loss Thursday.

7. I’ve spent the time since finding out thinking of all the parts of my life that were made known to me through Matt Sperry. The most profound of these parts is confidence. Matt always had an opinion: a very strong one that he threw with the force of his entire personality. Matt and we other iii bricoleurs spent months and months scoring silent films together, in a process that seemed more time consuming and emotionally challenging than many marriages are. The specifics of those quarrels are long since forgotten. What remains, and will always remain with me, is Matt’s utter commitment to the moment. He put everything he had into every idea that came into his mind. This force was always delivered with good humor, but with such conviction that no one ever failed to notice. Everybody gets good ideas, and Matt got more than his share of those. But what was unique to Matt , in my experience, is that he trusted in his ideas so completely. That kind of approach to living is entirely infectious, and one which I realized a long time ago will be with me every moment.

8. I feel so lucky to have known Mathew and played music with him. His music is inspiring, his love is so powerful, his smile infectious and his hugs empowering. I am so sad at his passing, but will always remember and be inspired by the ways he has touched my life when I play or hear a certain song or eat at a certain place…What a truly wonderful person we all have known and loved.

   My deepest sympathies to Stacia and Lila

   Thanks to all who have written.

   Michelle

9. How did one soul, one sweet, rascally force of nature touch so many lives? I am in awe of all the love that has come here to be shared.

   I hope that all of us here in Seattle can come together for a Matthew Sperry memorial of our own. Please post any ideas or notices here.

   Rodney

   fishmael@u.washington.edu

10. I don’t think I’ve seen Matthew once since he moved from Seattle though we spoke from time to time. We didn’t get to play much together but we did hang out a bit and I was always glad to be in the presence of his warmth, ideas and refreshingly strong opinions. Although we lost touch for the most part, I’ve always had a place in my heart for Matthew (as so many do) and was always glad to hear of his accomplishments both in music and family. My deepest condolences to his family and friends who’s lives he was, up until so recently, illuminating. Matthew you’ll be missed.

11. Words cannot describe how much I will miss Matt. The following is a link to a sketch of an altar that Phil and I are going to build for him.

    http://www.oneroom.org/weblog/hi_lo/matt.html

12. I am so sorry to hear of the tragic death of Matthew. What a shock to the senses and psyche. I don’t know if I met him but I still feel cheated by not having the opportunity in the future. I feel that having someone being taken away so suddenly leaves us with a feeling of abandement and distress that leaves scars for life. It is now up to us to turn the scars into stars, and honor the person by continueing to lead our lives with the lessons they have left us. It looks like Matt left us with an abundance of ways to enjoy life and family. May his star shoot across the cosmos leaving a trail we can all follow. No life is ever wasted, no matter how short. His memories will linger like star dust. I offer my prayers to you, his family and friends.

    With love and a saddened heart,

    Jim Hacker

13. I played with Matt way back in his FSU days in the Salsa band. I will never forget his warm heart, peaceful soul, and joyous sound. I am deeply saddened. My thoughts and prayers go out his family and friends. I will always remember him.

    With Love,

    Brian Carey

14. My love goes out to Lila and Stacia.

    Matthew’s patience and good humor as we endured the first month of rehearsing Hedwig were a constant lesson to me. When he was onstage, he was fully present; but his priorities were his wife & daughter and he always knew how to say NO to the show when he had to. He earned my respect as a person & a musician very quickly.

    He often had a bag of french fries which he would gladly share. He was always glad to see you, whoever you were, and you had to give in to the hug that would follow. He cracked me up so many times, backstage and onstage. What an unfailingly kind & sweet & generous & rare person.

    I had already been missing him since leaving the show. Thank you Matthew Sperry for your love, your music, your warmth, your optimism, and your ability to pass it along to those around you.

15. I have only had the opportunity to meet Matthew a few times. I cannot say that I knew him well. I wish I could. What I do know about him is that he was probably the only person in this world that had the goodness and spirit to be my niece Stacia’s partner in life. I saw the richness, love, and pure joy that Matthew brought to my beaufiful niece. Dearest Lila Simone joined her parents in love only 2 years ago. A baby so loved and loving that she will continue to live her life as if her father is the sunshine of each of her days.

    My heart is broken. We will never experience the extraordinary effervescence of Matthew with Stacia and Lila again.

16. My condolences go out to Matthew’s friends and family.

    As the programming director of a venue that hosts numerous creative music performances, I have met so many members of the creative music community and their families in all-to-fleeting moments before and after marvelous performances, and I regret often having trouble matching names with faces, instruments, and music. I admit, I had to look at the pictures posted of Matthew on this site to confirm that the individual tragically lost to us was who I was afraid it was.

    I remember Matthew as a warm, genuinely nice, enthusiastic, and talented musician, who juggled a busy schedule, but always presented himself and his music with consummate professionalism and grace.

    I and 21 Grand would be honored and willing to offer our venue for any memorial concert or gathering for Matthew.

17. This is a shocking loss. I wish I had known Matt better, but knowing him even a little was enough to know the beauty of his spirit. I mourn his passing, but he left marks that will not be forgotten. Music, and life, is more because of Matt.

18. As one of the programming directors of the Circ.a alternative music network in Italy, I have fond memories of Matthew playing in my country in 1997 with FoMoFlo… A happy bunch, good concerts everywhere, and a top performance for “Audiobox” on national RadioTre… Deepest condolences to his friends and family from all of us here.

    Sergio Amadori – Circ.a

    ( see http://www.ecn.org/circ.a/foto97.htm for FoMoFlo concert details and picture)

19. Oh how sorry I am to hear the horrible news. Matt was a fantastic, talented, friendly, vibrant person, it was clear even to someone who didn’t know him very well. I wish I had a chance to get to know him and his family better. But I feel very lucky to have met him and played with him in Daniel Popsicle- in the short time I knew him he left many wonderful memories.

    My heartfelt condolences to his loved ones. Words don’t say.

20. hmff…

    a long time staring at the first notice (say what? that doesn’t happen to nice guys on bikes!? Matthew?!), but a longer time reading so many beautiful memorials. yes.

    youthful arrogance aflame, i waltzed into Matt’s place about a year ago to rehearse _double basses at 20 paces_… ready to mop the floor with my opponent; Herr Sperry smiles! my foe isn’t supposed to be so damn sweet!

    he never stood a chance — there wasn’t an aggressive bone in his body! i miss him very much.

21. My condolances on the loss of your friend, Scot. Certainly it speaks well of him to be so well and fondly remembered, and so sorely missed.

    -Jim

22. i last saw Matt and met his family on a sunny august day here at my house just as he and his family were leaving seattle. it was such a treat to share a moment in the exitement of fatherhood with him. Lila had just been born and my son was just one. i will always remember his smile and enthusiasm. my thoughts are with you Stacia and Lila.

23. Matt,

    When Andrew emailed you more than two years ago to tell you that we were going to have a baby and he read me your response that Lila was born that day, I started crying from joy. Your account of Lila’s birth and Stacia’s strength and beauty… Oh, look! I just found the email in our scrapbook:

    Monday, March 5, 2001:

    “Hello Andrew! Good to hear from you. You have good timing too, as our baby just came out early Sunday morning. It’s a girl–Lila Simone Sperry, 8lbs of delicious newborn. I can’t describe just how amazing an experience my baby’s birth was. And now she’s so amazing to look at, and my wife Stacia is so beautiful right now…. Stacia is my hero right now. And Lila is just the most unbelievable creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

    Anyway, that email stuck with me for a long time (still sticks) and entered my blood and spirit and contributed to making my pregnancy and birth experience rich and beautiful. I am so touched by your love for and admiration of Stacia and Lila. You sent a giant piece of your spirit to us that day.

    Other things: your enveloping hugs; jamming with you, Andrew, Ben Warren, and Wally Shoup in the Compound in preparation for a show at the OK Hotel; your warmth, your voice; a party in your Seattle basement apartment after a dance concert choreographed by Sheri Cohen with music by you, Andrew, and others. I’ve never met Stacia, but I remember her paintings were hung all along the tops of the walls. I was telling Margit yesterday that I remembered them looking a little Aboriginal and she said they reminded her of Gorky.

    I send my spirit out to you and your closest ones. I hope I get to meet Stacia and Lila sometime!

    Love, Alissa Schwartz

24. Dear Matthew,

    I don’t know if you remember me. We only met one time. We had dinner together at your Mom’s in Miami in the mid 90’s. I am your Mom’s best friend. Well, at least I think I am. I hope I am. Your Mom speaks about you all the time, she is so proud of you! Proud of your accomplishments from musician, to cook, to builder, to activist, to father….

    After reading all of the previous memorials to you, I know why you chose to come to earth for this lifetime. All of these people that you have touched – you were here to teach each one of us. How can we not aspire to be just like you? With this wake-up call we can begin to live our lives as you did. We should now, every single one of us, hope to touch people in your way. You know how that pyramid effect works. It would surely change the collective consciousness of the world. Yes, a life well-lived, Matt…filled not with handshakes but big bear hugs.

    Just one other thing. The world thinks that a child is not supposed to cross-over before the parent….it’s not the natural way. I say we take another look at that theory. We each have a path that we have chosen to walk here. When we have accomplished this task, we go back home. Thanks, Matt, for your sacrifice. It would take someone just like you to accomplish this heavenly plan.

    And, alas, we are all left here now with our human tears and remorse, for, we know no other way to be. I’ll continue to love your Mom through this. With you and me at her side she’ll make it. I’ll be looking for you and counting on your help.

    Love,

    Sharon De Caria XOXO

25. Oh Matthew,

    You were my sweet friend. I must be blessed to have had so much of you in your last shining months. It’s clear reading the above that you touched so many in the same way you touched me. And we were just getting started.

    I watched you change Lila on the floor of a bar last Sunday as Mitzi blew soap bubbles over the two of you, and said to myself, “now, THAT’s the kind of Dad I want to be.” You were also the kind of musician I want to be, the kind of Jew I want to be, the kind of husband I want to be, and the kind of friend that I hope I was back.

    Thank you for making beautiful music with me.

    Thank you for your joy.

    Thank you for matzo ball soup when I was sick.

    Thank you for holding my hand when I was scared.

    I will always miss you.

    http://www.fogler.net/pictures/matthew

26. I have nothing to add to what I said above, except to show my pictures of matthew:

    http://phlog.perkis.com/

    XOXO

27. I never knew Mr. Sperry personally, but I was and am still a huge Hedwig Fan, and I saw the incredible performance in the city twice. An avid follower and lover of the story, I believe that the music is what does tell the story. Your music helped tell Hedwig, and for your artistry, thank you. You Rock! Many will miss your wonderful talents.

28. Matt and I became great friends during ‘high school’ [’83-’86]. We – along with a handful of assorted comrades – developed a bond to outweigh any I’ve known to date; particularly the four of us: Howard Ferre, Jason Hann, Matthew and me. Most of our time was spent doing ëthis-and-thatí, together. Of course, we connected musically, but moreover, the chemistry between us was something magical. We would enjoy life and all that the world could dole unto us.

    In 1985, Matt said we should revive the ‘Float Committee’. Long story short: there was no ‘Float Committee’ at our high school, but we would outwit the powers-that-be and each of us would take on the title in our yearbook. We began to congregate every Thursday. Wearing ‘Hawaiian’ shirts, we’d have a picnic in the grass behind the band room. Each of us would bring something. Matt always brought Perrier and grapes or this fabulous herbal iced tea his mom made with a potpourri of Celestial bags…

    We wanted to spread love and positive energy over our environment and we often tried to break boundaries within the hold of our surroundings; once, we dressed up like ëKrishnasí for Halloween donning bald wigs, monkish robes and tambourines. In fact, we danced and chanted throughout the hallways of the school, in and out of classrooms, smiling and ëconnecting by disconnectingí with the student populace. What a team.

    Later, while Matt and I were in college, living in the unofficial musicianís squat house at 502 W Jefferson St in Tallahassee, FL, he was my model for countless photo projects. I must have hundreds of pictures of him! We made a photo-book based on A Day In The Life [by the Beatles]. My professor awarded me the highest grade in the class for the assignment which ultimately featured a nude Matt Sperry in FSUís Ruby Diamond Theater, sitting at the controls of a massive pipe organ – no pun intended – (a la Monty Python). He worked for the music department and he had the keys, so we snuck in there at 3am and shot the whole thingÖso covert, yet so exposed. 

    When I last met up with him, Matthew was in the reception area of my less-than-fabulous, 14th floor office at 333 7 Ave in Manhattan. With beautiful Stacia at his side and the brightest little pixie, Lila, in tow, Matt and I looked at each other eye-to-eye for the first time in yearsÖ

    Note: being in New York City for more than a couple of months can jade you. One can become stoic, cynical or unaffected by the enormous population and its unabashed perversions. I moved to New York in December of 2000 and left my friends and family far away in Florida. I wasnít ëaloneí in the city, but letís just say, in my lifeís kitchen, I was missing the fine, familiar flavor you get out of a well-seasoned pan.

    ÖI had forgotten how emotionally powerful it is to embrace Matthew, but he drew me in like a breath and held me there until I understood it all againÖlike he knew I needed that reminder. He is so intuitive; so in tune with everything.

    We took a short tour of the place and headed out for lunch in Chelsea.

    The four of us walked around a little on the West Side talking about art and Lila and life – Lila, the essence of life and the overwhelming reflection of her wonderful parents. I thought to myself, ìMatthew, you are one of the most beautiful people Iíve ever known. You have the kind of family people should strive for and most people can only dream of. I am so privileged to have known you all this time and to have witnessed what delivered you to your nirvana.î

    A couple of months later, Matthew played with Tom Waits on the David Letterman show! Iím so proud of him. Dozens of my friends watched with me simultaneously and we called each other afterwards to be the first to say excitedly, ìDid you see him?!î

    Did you see him? I can only hope so. To know someone like MattÖto be able to feel the warm, love that he emits like steam off a racehorse in the cold, early dawn. That is my nirvana. I wonder, ìCould I be more blessed than he?î

    Matt is too gracious to know how important he is to my life and my development as a person. We shared many ëlegendaryí moments, but the crux of our brotherhood is based on intense admiration for his creativity, his spirit and his humanitarian demeanor. He showed me how to share love with the world around us. He taught me not to litter. Matthew moved meÖin the right direction. For that, I am forever grateful.

29. It has taken me the last two days to write something, memories of Matt swirling around in a sea of sadness. The surrealness of email, if only it were virtual reality, than Matt would be home making dinner with Stacia and Lila right now. I am so angry; I know that if he had the choice, he would be there. I fear that if I commit to these written memories of Matt, then it will all be true. Yet, I am compelled to write to add to this document of his life, especially for Lila when she is older, hoping it will provide some comfort to her in the vacuum of her and Staciaís loss.

    I think around 1993, I was fortunate to meet Matt as the sandwich guy, who came to my work every morning. We soon discovered we were real people, beyond our roles. He invited me to a Gamelan Pacifica performance at Cornish; it would be the first of many wildly divergent performances I would go to. And like any good friend he went to any plays I was in. He must have tried every kind of object on his bass, looking for new frontiers in sound as he did in food. Taking me to the best falafel place on the Ave. or the best Ethiopian deal. Like his knack for odd jobs that would sustain his art, he always knew how to work things or find the quality deal. At the time, he and Christie were my favorite couple. They were always creating something, it seemed life was the fullest expression of their artistic temperaments; hanging-out with them was never dull. And it didnít involve money or things; it could be as simple as a conversation. I was sad when they broke up, but totally inspired by how they stayed friends till the end. Later finding love in their respective partners Stacia and Phil. Eventually, we all left Seattle, but kept in touch throughout the years, visiting when we could.

    The last couple of years I lost touch, except through Mattís email postings. I feel so fortunate to have reconnected with him in January in San Francisco. We hung-out after Hedwig, it was easy to talk, as if it was yesterday. I was so proud to be a friend to the father he had become. The next day was one of the big anti-war protests. He said he wanted to take Lila to as many as he could, so that she would think fighting for what she believed in was an everyday activity. And that he wanted to raise her to be an empowered young womyn. He seemed so fully engaged in his life with Stacia and Lila, and working hard to support them using his many talents. Fatherhood suited him well and should have been his next work of art. Of course, he would laugh at the schmaltziness of all this reminiscing about him. I think any of us would do almost anything to hear that laugh again.

    Matt took me to my first meteor shower outside of Seattle. How could I not see his life as such– a beautiful ball of light that blazes through your life and then disappears. Iíll miss you Matt. –Love, Erin

30. The receipt of this message, spun out of the portals of cyberspace, across the Pacific, through the portals of my own meagre isolation, left me stricken with tears.

    I am a friend of Stacia and Matt’s from Seattle, where I was guest professor for a year. At a difficult time in my life, Stacia introduced me to her friends, including that very special cat, Matt, and made me and my wife feel a

    sense of incomparable warmth and repose.

    Matt was an incredibly dynamic person. He–as well as Stacia and Lila–never deserved this.

    It is incomprehensible.

    My deepest appreciation goes to Elliot for taking the time to contact me about this terrible

    tragedy. Although it is a sad occasion, I would have been a thousand times sadder had I not been informed.

    Stacia: I hope that I will get to see you next time I’m in the States.

    Love,

    Jon

31. May all the love generated through Matthew and expressed on this web site surround and comfort Stacia, Leila, all the relatives and friends and spread out through the world.

    May we remember and may the community come closer together through the remembrance of Matthew and all that he gave to all of us.

    I knew Matthew only through a few performances beginning in New York in 1998 and ending with Sounding the Margins in San Francisco this time last year. I feel fortunate that I had those experiences. As so many have mentioned his presence was immediately affecting – his grace, humor and creativity.

    We have lost a wonderful musician and friend. I will treasure Matthew’s spirit and musicality.

    With love,

    Pauline Oliveros

32. Not long after Matt arrived here in Seattle, my friend Mark and I were hard at work putting together a crazy kind of business/music store, with the kind of compact discs and records that Matt loved and even made–non-hierarchical, inclusive, inquisitive, compelling music. Matt helped us out at the store then and I always considered him a friend though our paths would later only cross occasionally. Part of how I connected with Matt was that he was the only other person I had ever met in Seattle who was actually from Florida. An unlikely alliance, perhaps. But more profoundly, his greatest impact on me was, as it seems to be with all those who are missing him now, the unmitigated interest he showed in YOUR story and his apparent distaste in tooting his own horn. He was a great listener–with or without the bass in his hands–and from that humble characteristic I was inspired and I will always be thankful to have had the opportunity to know him.

33. So many of you have written about Matthewís love and devotion to his family. I have experienced much of that over the past three years, having had the privilege to live and breathe Matthew as a dad, a partner, a friend, and a man.

    I met Matthewís voice before I met Matthew. We had just bought a house and had heard from the realtor that the house next door had also just been bought. I was able to get the buyerís name and called him, hoping to get his okay about chopping down part of a nasty tree that hung over our side of the fence. The voice on the phone was honey-coated, young, and amazingly appreciative of the call. He not only gave me the go ahead to chop away, but he gave me the hopes that we might really have something special when we moved in.

    Matthew and Stacia moved into their house two weeks after we moved into ours. When I first met Matthew, he looked like my partner Isidro, they both had shoulder length, thick black hair. They ended up being totally different people in almost every way (with two exceptions ñ they both loved being fathers and they both were forever running late!). But that was what made me appreciate Matthew even more. He and I were the similar ones, a bit neurotic, always overwhelmed, taking on too much, but producing such amazing results.

    When they moved in Stacia was probably six weeks pregnant. It didnít take long before Matthew connected with our daughter Nina, who was Lilaís age at the time. I can remember Nina at the top of our front stairs, morning after morning after morning, ìHi Matthewî ìHi Matthewî ìHi Matthew.î And Matthewís patient replies, ìHi Ninaî ìHi Ninaî ìHi Nina.î They had a connection, those two.

    Eight months to build a friendship and then Lila was born. The exchange between Nina and Matthew had become such a part of him, that much to Staciaís dismay, for the first few months after Lila was born, Matthew was caught quite frequently calling Lila, ìNina.î Theyíre pretty close, ìL-I-L-Aî and ìN-I-N-A.î (When our second daughter was born, my partner got in his own trouble when he called our new baby ìLilaî over and over again!)

    We had a connection that most people donít get with their neighbors. You like them, but youíre happy they live in their house and you live in yours. We liked Matthew and Stacia so much that when the fence between our two houses started to fall down, we just took it down and itís been down ever since.

    I was with Matthew the night before he died. We shared a meal, the company of three little girls under five, giggling and running around us as we tried to have an adult conversation. He left our house very excited, as he was about to take Lila to her first movie, ìWinged Migrationî (how many of us can claim such a beautiful first movie?).

    Matthew fed our family in so many ways. I mean, we fed the three of them, but mostly so that they could get food in their bodies. But, when Matthew fed us, it was so we could enjoy the taste of the food and mostly so that he could enjoy the cooking. He loved to salt his food, I think it was one of his favorite flavors. I have fond memories of his matzo ball soup, the roasted beets, roasted turnips (I mean, Matthew actually roasted turnips so perfectly that I could not even recognize them as turnips ñ who cooks with turnips??). He disdained the ritual of going out to brunch, appalled at how much it cost for food you could make at home for so little. We only called them once in the three years we knew them, to see if they wanted to go out to brunch, Matthew just said it was a ìrip-offî and immediately replied, ìcome over and Iíll make you breakfast.î

    I loved to disagree with Matthew ñ I mean, we pretty much agreed 99% of the time. But that extra 1% was exhilirating. I felt totally safe disagreeing with him. It reminded me of my law school days where we would sit around, stoned in some fashion, and argue until the middle of the night. We all liked that discourse, challenging each other, the ìintellectual danceî of it all. Matthew was a fine connoisseur of that intellectual dance ñ he had an opinion about everything: music, food, politics (can you imagine what it was like living next door to Matthew after the botched Gore/Bush election??).

    Matthew knew and appreciated eclectic music and often expressed disdain for anything run of the mill (with some exceptions). Our tastes were different ñ on any given day you could walk by our house and hear salsa, world music, or Ben Harper blaring out the front windows. The night before Matthew died, he and Lila were at my house taking care of our youngest daughter, Ariana. Stacia had begun the babysitting favor, but had had to leave about five minutes before I arrived. I walked into the house to Matthew and the two little girls. I was stunned for a second and then started laughing hysterically. I couldnít resist teasing him ñ because, in the background was a CD by the first American Idol, Kelly Clarkson. (yes, we mush balls bought the CD for our ìfour year oldî daughter ñ sure sure sure). Matthew didnít mind the teasing. Iím not sure he would appreciate the irony that Kelly Clarkson might have been the last CD he heard before he passed away ñ sorry Matthew!

    We were very lucky to have Matthew, Stacia and Lila as our neighbors and I look forward to the joy of continuing to support and be part of the lives of Stacia and Lila. We hold you close every night we go to sleep. We look through our dining room window into yours, across those ten feet of space and think good thoughts for you, giving you all the power and strength to get through these tough times and knowing we are right next door when you canít. We love you dearly.

    And, we love you Matthew ñ in your pajama bottoms, cereal bowl in hand, hanging at the top of your porch stairs at noon.

    We love you Matthew, even though you slept all night in your car when it broke down on the San Mateo Bridge, rather than call and wake us to come and get you.

    We love you Matthew as we see your grinning face, Lila in your arms, waving like a ten year old on a bus through the dining room window at 6:30 a.m.

    We love you Matthew, as you hemmed and hawed about borrowing Isidroís purple shirt for the Letterman show, yet when we turned it on that night, you wore it and looked hot!

    We love you Matthew, as we listen to your voice at our kidsí birthday parties, since you always volunteered to hold the video camera and take the pictures.

    We love you Matthew and miss you and will remember you in every delicious bite of food, every note played just the right way, every smile on Lilaís face.

    Julie

34. every once in a while you meet a person that the instant you see them, talk to them, you know they have a special light that shines. matthew was that person.

    i showed up at the hedwig audition having figured out the chords to “wig in a box” wrong. after the first round(in which i terribly messed up the song) when we were called back for the second audition, matthew was kind enough to show me the correct chords.

    you always here the stories about meeting someone and feeling like you’ve known them for 20 years. matthew was that person.

    thank you matthew for your beautiful talent. your sweet smile and your amazing soul. thank you for always being creative..thank you for showing that the essence of our beings is in what we create and that we should never deny any of it.

    we talked about getting together after hedwig’s run to play some music. that we never did will be one sadness i don’t know will ever go away

    stacia and lila, there are absolutely no words for how heartbroken i am for you. there is no way a spirit like matthew’s just goes away, it can’t..it has to linger..thank you matthew…

35. How can this be so?

    I last saw Matthew 3 weeks ago at a neighborhood school cleanup event. He was putting the finishing touches on a flowerbed he had just planted, attempting to water it with a hose that just wouldn’t quite reach. He was making sure that the just the ground got wet and not the plants themselves, as it was a sunny day and he was afraid they’d fry. Later that day I remember repeating that same wisdom to my partner Beth as if it were my very own as we worked on our vegetable bed.

    At that same cleanup I had the pleasure of spending an hour or more inhaling dust with his friend Peter (“you live nearby?” “no, I’m from Alaska” “oh”). It was no surprise to me that this sweet, gentle, funny and generous man was a friend of Matthew’s. Of course.

    It breaks my heart that Lila has lost such a father. That Stacia has lost such a partner. I didn’t know Matthew that well – the majority of our interactions took place by happenstance as I encountered him while walking the dog past his house – but it was abundantly clear that he loved that daugher of his to pieces and treated her with enormous respect and good humor. As it sounds like he did for pretty much everybody whose life he touched. I first met him when he borrowed our birth tub. I was happy to have another homebirther in the neighborhood. And I am somewhat amazed to learn of his musical accomplishments, of which I was largely unaware. I had the pleasure of trading stories back and forth with him this past winter as we were both in shows at the same time. My arts life is zero compared to his, yet he made me feel like an equal. One day walking home from a rehearsal I poked my head in the door at the Victoria theatre, as I could hear the band rehearsing inside and I was very curious about this Hedwig show. Now, I have no idea how Matthew noticed me peek in the door and I didn’t think he’d even recognize me out of the context of the neighborhood, but he just immediately looked up from his playing and shot me a smile and a wave, as if I was the person he had been waiting to see all day.

    Matthew, I sure hope you’re feeling all this love. You deserve it.

    -Tom

36. “Bone-chilling cold.”

    Matthew tried to warn me about the weather in Seattle. It was November, 1997, and I was about to follow his lead from South Florida to the Pacific Northwest.

    I had only met Matt once, briefly, on Miami Beach. Nonetheless, he left me the keys to his Seattle apartment — he was on tour somewhere — and I crashed at his place for a week or so. In anticipation of my stay, he composed a detailed list of the best/cheapest/funkiest restaurants, coffee shops and music clubs in his Capitol Hill neighborhood. I followed his recommendations not just for that week, but for months afterwards.

    Matthew’s apartment heater knew no middle ground; it either gushed thousands of BTUs or shut down entirely. It provided cherished respite from Seattle’s damp, dreary winter weather. I generally cranked it up so high that when I returned to the apartment after a walk in the perpetual rain I could barely breathe from the dry heat.

    So I guess you could say that I’ve always associated Matt with warmth.

    Of course, as so many of you who never visited his Seattle apartment have mentioned, Matthew’s smiles and hugs generated a warmth all their own.

    After a few months I returned to South Florida, where I live to this day. I learned of Matthew’s tragic accident while I was driving to the gym; the air was thick with humidity and the temperatures were in the mid-80s.

    But when I heard about Matt, a shiver ran down my spine.

    Bone-chilling cold.

37. matthew was one of those few wonderful people who seem so positive and sweet and thoroughly engaged in all the aspects of life. it is a blessing to have known his warmth, and an honor to have played with him. the thoughtfulness and goodness and clarity of his playing is a joy.

    my love goes to his spirit.

38. Dear Stacia and Lila

    Signy, Brendan and I send our deepest regrets and sympathies to you from Scotland. News of Matthew’s death has shocked us deeply. Matthew’s support for the world around him was clearly unending. This was his gift. Our time with him in Seattle was incomparable, and it is impossible comprehend the loss that you must now feel.

    Jon Keliehor

39. Stacia,

    I am thinking about you and Lila and all the people who love you.

    reaching/ stretching/ directing my love out to you and your family,

    Emily (Charlotte’s pal)

40. I stayed up last night listening to Matthew’s music and scanning in some pictures. I felt like I needed to do something, anything.

    below is the link to some pictures of Matthew, mostly playing:

    http://www.barelyauditable.com/matthewpage.html

41. Cars suck.

42. I have not seen Matt in many years, but I remember him warmly from the many rehearsals he came to at a house I shared in Seattle with Brent Arnold and Jana Wilcoxen.

    I am so sad to hear of his passing.

    I have a fuzzy snapshot of an audience watching a Blowhole show at the Jewelbox theatre in Seattle, and Matt’s smile jumps out like a beacon from the crowd.

    The outpouring of love and fond memories on this page is amazing and inspiring.

43. I’ve been reading and rereading these posts since I first received an email about Matt on Friday. I wanted to write something, but what could I say?

    So I took out all of the recordings that Matt had given to me over the years and just listened. I thought about all the things we had done together, about that fan with the record mounted on it that he used to abuse a small amplified toy violin (what did he call it? The Vio-lator? It was awesome!). How supportive he always was of me, letting me stay in his “basement” even when I smelled REALLY bad.

    I am grateful for it all. That we got to be dads together, even though it was just for a few hours one day when Matt, Stacia and Lila came back up to Seattle. (Lila was little, maybe just a few months). That I got to go to Matt and Stacia’s wedding and that he even asked me to play saron for them at it.

    The last time I was in San Francisco we only talked on the phone but couldn’t meet up. It didn’t matter. Days, weeks or years would pass and when I next saw or talked with him it was as if no time had elapsed.

    Brett and I just bought a house and are still unpacking and setting it up. We pulled out the legendary picture, “Matthew Naked with Frog”, that he gave me just before he moved down to Oakland. We weren’t sure what to do with it, but now we know. We’ll mount in on the wall above my computer, in the music room of course.

    Brett, Medea, Morgan and I send all of our love out you Stacia and Lila. You are always welcome in our family.

    Thanks for everything Matt! I love you.

    Brian

44. I am the 4 3/4 year old neighbor. We love you Matthew.

    Nina

45. I have only been in touch with Matthew a couple of times since I moved from Seattle in 1995, but I have always been impressed by his positive energy and his positive presence. Such a terrible loss; the world will miss him.

46. I am stunned to hear this terrible news. Matthew was such a warm and positive person, with a wonderful, easy smile and often a twinkle of mischief in his eye. We had just played together tuesday night in the Moe!kestra gig, and we enjoyed a leisurely conversation after. Thinking of him that night, so vital and cheerful, it has been impossible to comprehend this sad accident, and that he is gone. He was a joy to be around, a wonderful musician, and will be missed very much by all who knew him.

47. I know that many of us participating in the PornOrchestra are bound by grief with the sad news of the Matthew’s death, and I extend my condolences to each of you who are struggling with this loss.

    I too share memories of Matthew’s warmth and generosity of spirit. For me, his sense of humor and delight in absurdity are summed up in his alter-ego Hukilau Highland.

    Matthew/Hukilau was one of the first people I discussed the PornOrchestra project with as we waited to take the stage at Yoshi’s last September as members of Daniel Popsicle, playing Music from El Cerrito. Matthew had entered his Hukilau persona using a fantastic silver lame dress and heels. His effective use of cosmetics proved he was the only one who cared just how pasty the lights were about to make us. His playfulness and humor gave me the confidence to mention a certain idea I had been kicking around, and what did he think of it? He immediately connected with the absurdity of the PornOrchestra, encouraged me and was one of the first to volunteer to join the ensemble.

    Matthew/Hukilau missed the March premiere due to his full performance schedule with Hedwig, but we spoke last Tuesday at the Moe!Kestra! about looking forward to our performance, family plans pending. Not having Matthew with us this coming Thursday seems the smallest part of a loss that has suspended an entire community in sadness, but I wanted you to know the role he played in the formation of this project.

    I’m grateful for the experience of playing music with Matthew and listening to his performances. I’m heartbroken at the thought of the music we will never hear from him, yet certain all the next notes we play will carry his spirit and intent.

48. So many wonderful memories of time spent with Matt — from pool games and biweekly Trad’r Joe’s runs while on a dinner break at Virage . . . to his hilarious and incredibly detailed account of his 10-day experience with the “Master Cleanser” . . . to his tour-de-force, award-winning karaoke performance of Minnie Riperton’s “Lovin’ You.” And of course, Matt’s own music — these past couple days I’ve been listening to a “Sperry Sampler” of some of his recordings from the late 90s. So beautiful and inspiring, like Matthew will always be.

49. I remember Matt telling me he was leaving Seattle for the Bay Area and how excited he was about his relationship with Stacia. I immediately thought about how much of a hole this would leave in the local music community, while simultaneously thinking how fortunate it would be for the Bay Area community. This was part of the charm of Matthew – he was so unassuming, yet his ability to connect in positive ways was simply a matter of fact. Good things would happen.

    I’ve lost other friends who’ve passed at an early age and am struck by the plane of greatness that these people were on. Each time I wind up thinking two things – that they are being called by a higher power to help spiritually and that, through their memory, they will help us to all be better people. I can now, again, only hope this is true to counteract the sadness of losing such a great guy.

50. Dear Stacia, what is there to say when the abyss opens up before us bigger

    than life and the fear and the anger sharpen the pain so that we do not die,

    which would be the easiest, because how is it possible for a human being to

    accept the unacceptable? And yet.. love is a moment of acceptance. Your friend

    died. Your husband. Your most loved one. The journey is long into the hidden

    memories and the pain of the unexisting future unbearable, it takes a while to find

    the music, the gap is humongous… but the gift of death, wrapped in thorns,

    is precious for those who dare unwrap it and the responsibility is big facing

    it. Our beautiful, wonderful, gifted friend died, before time? The crassiness of

    the fact, the unexpected. It is always like that, one is never prepared.

    He left you Lila and the moments you shared, which are eternal and the

    responsibility of keeping him inside you, alive not just for you but for him. And

    his music. Music is the soul of life, finding music is crucial, music in sadness

    and in joy, only boredom has no music, only indifference is mute.

    The pain is healthy. No regrets, but Regret, an emotion which widens

    conscience but not guilt.. You will go from painful shock to more painful acceptance

    and in the way you will twirl in confusing emotions of shocking intensity. The

    fact is unacceptable, the anger is the opening of the big mouth of an abyss

    that never closes again and whose sight leaves us stunned in amassment, so

    that anger really can not exist….save your self if you can, may be then you can

    drag others too.. to the shore of…wonder shall we say?…or what?

    Is there a way to trick death? To wait for her and face her? to take her hand

    for the last dance? I presume this the origin of all so called

    esoteric/spiritual search. And facing the wonder how can we honestly assume that not

    everything is possible? I believe that when someone we love dies, there is an energy

    that we absorb a sort of cannibalistic esoteric experience, quite wonderful

    really, which enables us to continue to feel and to communicate…

    Ah Stacia, I know but too well nothing of what I can say can help you now,

    but you will help yourself, you have no choice and time will help you too. I am

    with you, pray for you, wish for you that with strength some chosen ones can call

    to jump over the gap.

    Eponine

    Paris

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