Thank you for the music, Frantz
I sat down this morning to start work, glanced at my twitter feed and saw this
Well trained by my spouse to always leap to the worst conclusion, I immediately thought, "Oh god, don’t tell me one of them died." (Them being Frantz and Helmut, the two brothers that make up the group ES Posthumus.) I clicked the link. Unfortunately this time Dan’s turn of mind was correct. Apparently Frantz of E.S. Posthumus passed away in May.
I’m pretty much processing the real impact of this as I write, so pardon the babble. If you’ve been on the blog here a long time you know that I absolutely love this group. For those who don’t know, THIS IS MY FAVORITE GROUP. This is the music that cuts right into my soul and makes it stand up and scream OH MY GOD YES. This is the music I pull out when I’m really, really stuck, or when the world cuts too close to the bone and I need to fill with light. This music above all makes me see color and light and opens doors to new worlds. Above all, this is the music of the Etsey series, which most of you are saying, "What???" because it’s not published yet.
The fact that I’ve now seen the whole of ESP makes me feel like someone just removed the floor. I’m sure I’ve got nothing on Helmut, but goddamn, I feel so CHEATED. By the universe, I guess, so nothing like railing against a monolith. I just… fuck. I mean, the first album is good. The second is great. The third felt like a group just starting to soar up and out over the terrestrial plane. And now I feel like some random muzzle from the cosmos shot it down. And that’s it.
I hope it’s not. I hope Helmut, like all artists, is able to use great pain and loss to make more art. Not just because I want to hear it, but because I don’t know many places where I saw the kind of beauty and craft I get from ESP. I hope Frantz, from his more celestial place now, still gets his hand in. I hope this year is the dark curve which marks the ascendance of something eventually even greater.
If not, or at least for now—Helmut, Frantz, your work is profound. You fuel my imagination like nothing else. Whole scenes from novels appear by listening to you. Plots are unraveled. New horizons appear. When I’m down, when the clouds get too low, your music is the sun. You are a vital part of my creative life. Thank you so much for the music, which even if they took away all my CDs and hard drive and ipods, would still sing on in my soul.
At the end of every manuscript, every time I finish anything, I play this song. It seems appropriate to play it now.