Yesterday was a very sad day for music in America. Today, I felt that sadness as I heard about the suicide of Dave Blood, the bassist for the Dead Milkmen. Yesterday, I was at a showcase (networking party) with a bunch of music industry folks in NYC. I'm glad I did not hear of this until now, otherwise it would not have been such a good night for me. This fully qualifies as a mood destroyer.

Everyone has at least one band that has broken up, which they hold hopes of having a future reunion. If you had asked me a year or so ago what my big two were, I would have listed The Pixies and The Dead Milkmen. In regard to the Pixies, it appears I will get my wish. I can't help but wonder if some karmatic penalty just got handed out.

On my recent drive across the country, as I entered the tri-state area, I decided to take a path that passed directly between Philadelphia and Trenton. The entire time, I was blasting The Dead Milkmen. It was my ode to Philly, youth, a general celebration of sarcasm, and one of many reflection points on a very long journey. It felt so fitting at the time.

Suicide seems to be the great plague of the creative world. It hurts every time I hear we have lost another person who has touched my life. While I never met Dave, or any of the other Milkmen for that matter, I consider them among some of my best friends. Music is that powerful.

My condolences go out to Dave’s family and friends, the other Milkmen. I hope they can find peace and acceptance in the face of this tragedy, in a way Dave was unable to find in himself. All your fans are mourning with you. This evening, my friends and I will certainly raise a few glasses in your direction.

Everyone else out there, do something to help one of your local tortured artists. If you consider yourself a tortured artist, please remember: Introspection holds the potential to be fatal, don’t go to far with it.

Dave Blood, Rest in Peace