On July 14, a good man passed away. Erik Petersen was the songwriter and voice of Mischief Brew, a folk/punk band from Philadelphia that was very popular not only across the US, but also abroad. In fact, they were scheduled to start a European tour in just a few days. Erik was also one of my favorite people. To be honest, I barely knew him. A decade ago, I saw him pretty regularly for a while; lately, not so much. But that was Erik. If you met him even once, he’d likely be on your top 10 list of people you like to hang out with.
A lot of people have been writing tributes and sharing stories about Erik. Here’s mine.
Erik sang at my wedding party. His set was perfect and having him there made an awesome day even more magical. Erik – whether eponymous, as Mischief Brew, The Orphans, or Kettle Rebellion – was an immensely gifted songwriter and an outstanding performer. His passion and his earnest heart moved me every time I saw him play.
In my mind, I never distinguished Erik from my other favorite musicians; he wasn’t my ‘favorite Philly punk singer.’ He was just one of my favorite singers, full stop. Like Billy Bragg or David Bowie. Okay, maybe not Bowie because, you know, Bowie. But you get what I’m saying. His talent and showmanship was at a level consistent with other, more famous, poet songwriters.
So having Erik perform at my wedding… for me, it was like having Billy Bragg there singing There is Power in a Union – a song Erik did, in fact, sing at my request. Every other song, though, I wanted to be his own rousing rebel music. Punk anthems. Workers ballads. Gypsy lullabies. The works.
Of course, he rocked it. He had people who’d never before heard folk punk on their feet dancing.
Near the end of his set, the dance floor empty of revelers, out walked a friend of mine’s young son. He was transfixed by Erik on stage, singing and playing guitar. He stood there in the middle of the room, staring up at him. It was completely adorable. After, Erik welcomed him to the stage and knelt down to be at eye level with the little man. Erik helped him position and hold his guitar and then let him play. He wasn’t all weird and patronizing about it and he didn’t look at all concerned that this small child could potentially drop the instrument or anything like that. Erik treated him like he treated, as far as I can tell, every person that he met. With equanimity, grace and a disarmingly friendly smile. It was a fantastic moment.
A lot of people have noted how Erik had a way of making people he just met feel at ease, like they were old friends. I don’t know how he did it, but it’s true. It was like he walked around with his arms open wide, embracing the people he met without judgment or ego. As equals. I mean, he could easily have been a jerk. A condescending rockstar who was ever punker-than-thou. But he didn’t.
And he had to know, at least on some level, that he was unusually gifted. Ordinary people don’t have crowds of people gather around them, singing along perfectly with pretty much every song they’ve ever written. They don’t move people to travel very long distances just to see them. They don’t compel strangers to put their arms around each others’ shoulders, swaying and singing in unison.
Erik was generous in a way that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. That you were important and totally worth his focus and attention, even if you didn’t know him well. Maybe that’s what living in the moment looks like. I don’t know what that special quality Erik possessed was, but gods, I wish I had it. Imagine approaching the world like that. Imagine making everyone you met feel good about themselves. What a gift.
I don’t know what events conspired to take Erik away from a world that loved him. It’s none of my business. And it’s none of yours. I just hope that Erik was aware of even a fraction of the love, respect and gratitude that has been pouring out from people around the planet whose lives he enriched. Because it is immense. If I prayed, I would ask that he be wrapped in that love and thanksgiving like a warm blanket for his long sleep. I would have him know that, even in death, he is still bringing people together. We’re swaying and singing his words, inspired by him to hold each other dear. And we’ll continue the fight to make the world a more wondrous place where everyone gets a share of the treasures it holds.
RIP Erik Petersen 1978-2016. You are warmly remembered and painfully missed.
“When the tape slows down it means the battery’s dead.
May your songs never get stuck out of my head.
If I ever fall asleep I remember my dream
Where everybody’s there and nobody leaves”
– Erik Petersen, Departure Arrival
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All photos by George Hagegeorge, 2006.
