A VOICE QUIETED
One of the last conversations I had with Colin McDonald ended with us agreeing to disagree: I thought baseball was tired, generally boring and not at all a thrill to watch. Colin, on the other hand, was exasperated at my inability to understand the finesse, strategy and exciting tension of the game. Typically, I rethought my stance after getting caught up watching a handful of innings of playoff baseball a week and a half ago. It seemed trivial at the time. Then last Wednesday, my friend and frequent Metro Times music and film contributor -- for that is how he was known in these pages -- died.
The first time he changed my stubborn mind was when he convinced me that Blur's Modern Life is Rubbish was the band's best record. That seemed trivial at the time, too. But that was in the context of a conversation that ended knowing full well that you'll live to quibble again. After all, Colin was playing music with his brother Kier and their friend Matt Smith. I bumped into him at shows often and got next-day reports from him about the ones that I missed. Arguing passionately about music was the boon and the bane of our relationship.
Hopefully, Colin's words got you to dig a little deeper into your own perceptions of music -- to try a little harder to understand, culturally, historically and personally, that place in the heart and soul from which art is mined. Just last week, his words and name appeared in this space, writing about the work of his Huntington Woods neighbors, ANB. I took for granted the kick he'd get when he read the humorous writer credit -- referencing his unabashed über-fandom of David Bowie -- which I tacked on to his name. I feel robbed. I'll miss him very much. He loved sharing his perspective on music with our readers. The Metro Times and, I'm sure, Detroit's music community will miss his voice.
