My God you guys, I shouldn’t have to be doing this again, not this soon, not this much closer to my heart. What a thing to have the two most exciting prospects to me in music right now fall apart within a month of each other, not because of inner-band quarreling, not because of too-rigorous touring schedules, and not because of creative block, but because of death.

Matt Davis of Ten Grand was a kinetic musician. With his trademark dreadlocks obscuring his face, he made you feel his music. His disarming and warbly screech unintelligably drove his pointed and riveting lyrics into your brain. It’s like he had a way of forcing out your own catharsis through his singing. He commanded the stage like an Indian medicine man, dancing and swaying; transfixed and inpenetrable. And yet he was so warm, and so compassionate, and so funny. In fact, it’s one of the things that attracted me to Ten Grand’s music in the first place, this ability to rock so viciously and stoically, yet still laugh about it when the song was over. Every time I put on one of the albums he helped make I see his figure, menacing but intrigiung, daring you to take one step closer, and making you glad you did the second afterwards.

R.I.P.