It’s 5:30 in the morning and I’m at the desk after staring out the window from bed into the dark glen for over an hour, up the hill where coyotes roam. In half-sleep an hour prior to that I heard them proclaiming, likely death. They aren’t so different than humans. Herd mentality. Out for blood. Diseased and strutting through the night. I’ve read that they are emotional creatures as well. I wonder when one of their own dies if they would have the depth to mourn the loss with an emoji.
Friday morning many of us were shocked to hear that Luis Vasquez from The Soft Moon and Juan Mendez from Silent Servant had died. I’ve played shows with both and knew each of them a bit. The Soft Moon and Cold Cave were scheduled to play back to back in a few weeks at an upcoming festival in Netherlands. The reporting is that they, along with Juan’s wife Simone, died from an accidental fentanyl overdose. Both were contemporaries we respected. No one who knew Juan had met many others who were kinder. With the outpouring of love and loss for each I am once again saddened that this deserved regard was not put into action while they were alive to receive it. This is all part of the curse.
There’s been some bizarre reactions to this and I understand grief distorts intent but I’ve found myself so unsatisfied with the conversations around all of this. In trying to explain this frustration you understand that mine may distort too…
I’m not so sure that the elephant in the room is that you need more test strips and chemicals to fight against murder - it’s that this is a war and you are powerless to this agenda of sickness and greed and there are only so many vacancies in the chamber. And for reasons only your own aching child inside will recognize, you still lift the gun to your head. You can prolong the inevitable with these tools against synthetic bloodshed, and I hope that you will, but even more I hope for revolt against those who want you to bleed out in your rented rooms across the warring world…
You love getting pissed about everything - why not the idea that they want you dead, and at the very least, have left you for it? In what other situation would you allow your loved ones to be poisoned to death and advise your other loved ones to check the poison before taking it? This is madness. I hope you know that.
Please don’t be a 2000 something fentanyl death. Some compound shipped from there to there to here. They don’t care about your soul, your loved ones, your legacy, your passion, or your struggle. They live for your death and prey on your vulnerability as sensitive vessels. Please stop letting sideline sycophants contribute to your demise by contaminating the purity that you have spent years fighting to describe and protect. We are impaired by our dreams. They, of course, know that.
Luis and Juan - thank you for your music. I pray that you are both at peace and am so sorry to you and your loved ones that this happened. There isn’t enough justice in the world to make this right. May this tragic misfortune save another.
This is beautiful, Wes. More than beautiful, it’s logical. The outcrop of the rage we feel and the powerlessness it can lead us to. These deaths are yet another reminder of the sickness of our society and our misguided reliance on individual solutions to societal problems. Test strips aren’t the answer, though of course they save lives, they are a drop in the bucket. It’s the broken childhood heart that causes a society to become cold and calloused, inured on the surface to the pain we create while being connected to and impacted by it. It’s the world in which we are hard on people and soft on systems instead of the reverse. It’s the blood that has been shed on the land we live.
Stay resolved. Stay soft.
Thank you so much for these words.