GauntThis year we lost Jerry Wick – lead singer, songwriter and guitarist for the rock band Gaunt. (Jerry and I always called it "the rock band Gaunt") He was riding his bike home from work, when a car hit him. The driver did not stop. The driver was not caught until days later. (Plenty of time to sober up.) The driver is not in jail.
At the time I wrote nothing on the web site- and issued no label press release. It just did not feel right, to me, to share memories and grief on a web site or in a press release. Now I can.
Jerry was a romantic. I mean that in the broadest sense of the word. He was passionate and embraced to the fullest- a novel he was reading, a band he was listening to or enamored with, and especially rock and roll. He would argue the finer points of a book…. defend the genius of a musician or group… the merits of a record… to anyone who would listen. He just could not see another view of said book, musician, or record. He could not believed you had read, heard, or understood. You had missed the point. He just needed to point you in the right direction, not to prove he was smarter than you, not to get the last word; but because he so completely had embraced the music or message. He was living it, breathing it. He was in it. He drove people crazy. The one place that this quality was always enjoyable was on stage. His body punctuated every note. Jumping around the stage- he was lost in the music. Audience size made little difference. Once on tour he had sliced up his hand really badly at a show mid way through the tour. He could not play his guitar. But with Jovan beside him – Jerry made up for it in every way. When he sang " Stay Away, Stay Away from Me" it was personal. His energy propelled the band. If he could not scream with his guitar- he would get the message across another way. It was like he had been issued a challenge. His response was defiant. It was infectious.
I hope you know what I mean by bands that you can listen to and feel like a super hero. Listening to a tape of Gaunt and riding my bike on the Lower East Side. I was invincible. I was dangerous. I was no longer just a girl from Delaware- I was a bad ass! He made a believer out of me. The beauty of it is. He still does.
If I make it to 80- I can be an 80-year-old bad ass. I just need to put on the record.
Miss you Jerry.