I used to sit in the dark with headphones on. I would play “December” by Static-X over and over. The calm, dark, swaying intro would lull me into a sense of sub-conscience. I would think about life, death, the unknown.
Sometimes I would catch the track before it went to the outro and restart my CD player to loop it all over again. Over, again, I go on my journey into the darkness in my mind thinking about loved ones and my life; what I want, what people want from me, my brother Joe, if I would stay in Salt Lake City or move away to a big city.
Sun shines through haze
I put my thoughts – toward future days”
I wear what I love on my sleeves. Sometimes I’m practically waving a flag sewn with threads of my passions. Most people know I’m a Static-X fan. When the first album came out I picked it up with my friend Breno and drove to my house. We must’ve listened to the hit songs at least a dozen times in the driveway. Breno seemed to like it. But I was in love. This music was hot, heavy, and gritty as hell. It had attitude, style, and flair.
I’ve followed the band for years but never went to a show. That’s the odd thing about me. I’ll listen to a band’s music until each note is etched into my brain but I don’t care to go follow bands around their concerts. Perhaps it’s the crowds that dissuade me. But the funny thing about Static-X is that among my circle of friends I never found anyone who really loved them as I do. So I guess I just enjoyed them in my little corner. My dark room. My psychological ship.
Yesterday Lisa mentioned to me that Wayne Static has died last Saturday. At first I thought she was joking (as she sometimes does, darkly). But once I noticed she was serious I ran to my computer and fired up Google.
[ W a y n e S t a t i c ]
First result: “Wayne Static passes away at 48.”
I was hurt. Angry. Confused. The man I had been following on Twitter and Facebook all these years, the man who was a vegan and enjoyed 4-wheeling in the outdoors with his wife, dies in his sleep the night before a trip to a big tour. It feels like losing a close friend. A man who spoke to my soul through cheap headphones or blown out car speakers.
Here I am, 14 years later since his first album came out, listening to “December” over and over again. This time I have not gone on any voyages. Wayne has. Now he is gone and his lyrics haunt me.
“It’s no surprise, I close my eyes, and close the door.
Feeling so old. Years pass like days
Vastly changing. So many ways.
My eyes perceive – yes I believe… in nothing more”