Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Vale Chris Magor 1971 - 2006

Chris bowling one of his deceptively pacy deliveries in one of many games of street cricket.
(More pics in the pictures section of the Brown couch website)

I heard this morning that an old friend of mine died on Sunday - the details were scant but he was hospitalised late last year with serious liver problems (I think) so I assume it was related.

I'm kind of floored really. Chris had a most amazing mind, knowledge, ideas, talent, humour and generosity of spirit and now it's all gone. Sure, he wasn't perfect, noone is but all in all he was a top bloke and I'll always regret the way we kind of drifted apart over the last few years. My fault and my loss.

It's a cliche but he was the candle that burnt far too bright for far too short a time.

See ya Tarquin

(And for the first time, I really appreciate Ginsberg's Howl - a small chunk I'll quote here)



I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats
floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the
scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull

Update 7/2/6
Dedicated the last half hour of the show to Chris, playing a combination of tracks that I thought he would like and which also summed up some of my feelings about the whole thing. While the title of the Bukowski track mightn't seem so flattering, I reckon he would appreciate the joke.

Star Star Rolling Stones.
The Death of an Idiot 2:31 Charles Bukowski Charles Bukowski Reads His Poetry
Gold Soundz 2:40 Pavement Crooked Rain: LA's Desert Origins
A Fond Farewell 3:58 Elliott Smith From A Basement On The Hill
Where Is My Mind? 3:41 Frank Black Francis Frank Black Francis
This Charming Man 2:43 The Smiths Hatful Of Hollow
Perfect Day 3:44 Lou Reed Legendary Lou Reed (Disc 1)
Chinese Rocks 2:53 Johnny Thunders & The Heartbreakers Mojo: I Love NY Punk

It was really nice to see so many of the old crew at the funeral - obviously never a time people would choose to come together but nice to see them nonetheless. Probably a more religious service than I would've expected but as they say, funerals are for the living and Chris' mum and dad certainly deserved the kind of service they wanted having been so good to him over the years.

His brother Anthony selected a nice Coltrane track for him and Paul and Russ got the Stones (Sweet Virginia) and Ride in there too. There was a nice little table with some of the relics of his life - a book on Kiss, the complete works of Shakespeare, the Rolling Stone guide to Rock and Roll; and some dvds including Leaving Las Vegas and Shameless - an English series currently on SBS that I'd just discovered last Monday. His guitar was also propped up there and on his coffin was draped his punk leather jacket - it looked right.

Big turnup - lots of friends and family, standing room only in the end. Standing (in some small strange way maybe) made it seem a little more like a gig, which I guess he would've liked.

Anyways, enough of this - time to get out and live the life that you should be big guy.

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