Come as you are.

I met Frank in the early 80s but I didn’t start to spend time with him until he helped me land me an internship at Relativity Records in the 90s. And when Relativity was bought by Sony I worked for a bit at the offices on 5th Ave. We went to a lot of shows together. I can’t even name half of them. I recall giving Frank a Promo copy of the 6ths album Wasps Nests. And later a poster from The Magnectic Fields album Get Lost. I remember a CMG show when Jeff Buckley shafted the Tindersticks (one of the opening acts) because he wanted to see a show so he moved his time slot an hour earlier. After Jeff Buckley played the venue completely emptied out save for 60 people who stuck around. Frank was among that small crowd. We heard a great set from an under-appreciated British band. I met Bob Moog at a record release party (Frank got me on the list).

Nothing like humidity and gray skies and a memorial service to send a person to the doldrums post haste.

Yesterday I went to a memorial service to celebrate the life of the late Frank Mazza. Frank was a Buddhist and a pacifist which did not deter him from joining the Marines. Luckily he enlisted in the early 80s so he was never sent into armed conflict. Yesterday three Marines in full-dress uniform arrived at the house to honor one of their departed. One played Taps while the other two folded the United States flag, Old Glory. Frank was rather unemotional and matter-of-fact and I didn’t anticipate any tears of my own but when the Marine handed the folded flag to Frank’s teary-eyed mother and father, I admit I was choked up. Everyone around me was crying. (I felt that if Frank had been there he would not have been crying. He just wasn’t that sort of person.)

As I moved among the friends and family I was searching for a way to honor Frank and when they started serving food I got my insight. “Eat.” “Eat a lot.”

Frank was not a foodie. Frank was particular. Frank ate a lot. He at from his own personal food pyramid: sushi, pizza, pastrami on rye, cookies, coca cola, and grape soda. (Please note the absence of fruits and vegetables in Frank’s diet.)

So I ate a lot. Even though I’m a vegetarian I had a small piece of pastrami on rye, lots of sushi, 2 pieces of Joe’s pizza, many cookies, and a glass of coke with ice. Oh and one piece of a yummy fruit tart (which I don’t think Frank would’ve eaten).

I can hold my own when it comes to big eaters, which is not to say I’m ready to enter Nathan’s hot dog eating contest but I’m sure I did Frank proud yesterday. (His only criticism might have been that I should have eaten more sushi.)

After I tossed my dietary restrictions out the window I spent the next several hours catching up with a lot of guys I hadn’t seen in over a decade. Other than gaining a few pounds and having a bit more gray hair, these guys were all surprisingly unchanged by the passage of time. I find that a bit odd. I don’t see life as a constant. I see life a huge adventure in which we meet our challenges head on. I see life as urging loved ones to live larger lives, to embrace change, to engage in interesting pursuits. It was really weird that everyone was still (more or less) doing the same thing they’d been doing back in the 90s. I couldn’t wrap my head around that.

Some of the guys wore t-shirts but when pressed on this (not by me) Mike Del Tufo who wore a Smiths t-shirt told this story. “I met Frank in a bar and I was wearing a Smiths t-shirt. Frank said, This Charming Man is one of the greatest songs ever written. Would you like me to sing it? Mike said, Sure. Frank walked over to the juke box selected the song and then sang it ‘note for note.’” Gene Gritzan wore a Radio Head t-shirt and replied, “Frank wouldn’t have cared how anyone dressed. Come as you are.”

Are you starting to get to know Frank a little bit here?

He liked to eat like a 10-year old boy but could pack it on like a man. He was an ardent follower of music. He was unabashed.

I suppose if I had one memory of Frank it’s that I never felt judged by him ever. That’s refreshing. It’s also something I wish I could offer other people. Sadly I’m a bit OCD when it comes to personal growth so I’m always pressing myself onward. Naturally any of my friends feel the force of this when they’re in my presence.

One of the big topics of conversation was Frank’s music collection. The guy assembled an impressive collection over a variety of genres. I think the collection should be donated to a school (or archive) that can appreciate the depth and scope of Frank’s taste. Sadly, it looks like the family is going to figure out what’s valuable (in terms of $$$) and will most likely dismantle the collection. In my opinion that’s a shame. In Frank’s opinion (and I’m guessing here) I don’t think he’d care too much either way. I’m going to see if I can agree with him in the coming months.

And before I sign off I will describe the circumstances of Frank’s death.

He went for his daily jog on Friday. He left the house without ID. When he failed to show up at his parent’s house Saturday morning his sister realized he was missing. She filed a missing person’s report and then started calling local hospitals. Monday he was located in the morgue, John Doe. During his jog he collapsed. A good Samaritan called an ambulance and Frank died en route to the hospital.

Frank was 52 years old when he died.

I take away from Frank's death the following:
1. You never nkow when you're going to die.
2. Eat like I mean it.
3. Eat with people I like and care about.
4. Don't sweat things too hard.
5. Actively participate in things that matter to me.
6. Don't leave the house without ID.
7. Contemplate my legacy: what do I want to leave behind?


I leave you with one of Frank’s favorite quotations.
“The only real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” Marcel Proust.
R.I.P. Frank.