It’s strange hearing about someone’s death on Facebook, although that seems to be the new norm. It’s even stranger clicking over to the person’s timeline and reading through the displays of anguish until you arrive at the person’s last post. In Kyle Scott’s case, a friend of his had posted, “Have a very talented musician friend looking for a saw player..Will hook you up if you’d like” and Kyle had answered, “yes please” with a smiley face emoticon. And then sometime later, as far as we know, he was clipped by another car while driving, which caused his vehicle to roll off the road. He died at the scene. He was right there in the world and then he wasn’t. Post after post on Kyle’s Facebook page speaks to the bewilderment and sense of loss rocketing through the worlds of those who loved him.
I didn’t know Kyle well. But he was a central figure in one of Blue Lake’s most storied eras, circa 2006 or so. I covered music for the Arcata Eye at the time and had a special fondness for a certain outlaw country band, The Rubberneckers. The band had formed in 2002 and almost immediately laid claim to Humboldt’s heart – and liver – with cowpunk singalongs celebrating, among other things, being drunk by 4 p.m., ice in one’s drink, being wasted tonight and 100 beers. Kyle played with The Rubberneckers on occasion, lived with three out of four of the members in the fabled Farmhouse and fronted his own band, The Jade Stems, all of which is how I met him. Between the ‘Neckers and several exceptional seasons at Dell’Arte, Blue Lake was in a musical and theatrical heyday, the center of its own brilliant universe. Times were crazy and love was fierce.
But the momentum couldn’t be sustained forever. The Rubberneckers split up and went their separate ways. New York. Florida. Arcata. Iowa? The Farmhouse scene evaporated. Kyle landed in Austin via PDX and, by all accounts, was doing well. He’d just come off a week-long road trip with his father, according to his friend (and mine) Colleen Clifford – Colleen’s Facebook post is how I learned about Kyle’s death. She’d put up a link to a track recorded 12 years ago, when Kyle had joined local bluegrass band Lazybones for a song (listen below). Colleen’s husband Ian Davidson, who currently plays banjo in the Absynth Quintet, was in Lazybones at the time.
Ian shared a bit of his memories of Kyle. “I got to know him a long time ago, when he was dating a roommate and we became friends… He was just a really cool guy, really nice and genuine, but quirky and weird at the same time, with a great sense of humor and adventure, a really kind, gentle guy who always had an interest in lots of things. The last time I saw him was when Absynth played a wedding a couple years ago. He was here for the wedding and we got him up on stage and I’m glad we did that. He was really skilled in weird musical pursuits. He played the saw and could hand-fart like no one else. It was truly amazing.”
My own recollection and a look at Kyle’s Facebook page confirms all the above. He was a really cool guy and quirky and weird and loved. Former Rubbernecker and Farmhouse resident Greg Lojko posted, “This is the saddest day of my life. This man and this dog and I lived with each other longer than anyone else outside of our families. I know because we just talked last weekend and he sounded happier and clearer than I’ve ever know him. My heart is broken.”
Rubberneckers’ frontman Clay Smith – who visited last summer during the Mad River Festival and joined Absynth Quintet onstage for “Another Sunny Day,” The Rubberneckers’ beloved ode to Blue Lake – wrote, “My friend since early ’90s Gainesville, Blue Lake Farmhouse roomy, band mate and life long partner in weirdness. We lost him to a car accident Saturday night near his place in Austin, TX where he had just moved in with his girlfriend. My heart is broken. The earth and humanity should mourn his loss. They’ll never have another like him. And neither will we.”
Humboldt friends, please note: A memorial for Kyle is being planned at the Logger Bar. Longtime Blue Lake resident and former Farmhouse neighbor Kim Wester is helping organize the tribute to Kyle. “He was such a warm, warm light,” she said, “incredibly welcoming, down-to-earth, someone that should never be taken away…” Details will be announced on the Logger Bar’s Facebook page.
Kyle was 42 years old.
This article appears in How to Die in California.
I was friends with Kyle at the beginning of my Portland journey in 2006. He was my roommate and had been randomly selected by my new landlord. We were fast friends, our Florida past lives, love of dogs, and eccentric music bonded us like not so distant cousins of a black sheep tribe of nomads. We stayed in touch over the years and I was there as he struggled with health issues sated by the love of his dog Indy and his membership in Molly Bang as their electric saw player. He helped me get a warehouse job under him at Concentrates Inc. where he had been working for some time, looked out for me, and we grabbed drinks sometimes after work at Apex. I looked after an aging Indy for him in her twilight years whenever he had to leave town, and I was sad to see him leave for Austin, TX but knew in my heart that he needed to follow his path. I intended on making my way down there to see him on a future road trip. Now it seems I’ll never get to be around my quircky tall friend and make fun of the fact the he doesn’t like to run, or talk music and women with him again. My heart sinks to hear this news, as the world is now a darker place without him in it. Someone please put me in contact with his circle in Austin. I have bad news to deliver to his friends up here, and I know we all have questions. I propose a interstate memorial of friends to gather in his honor, speak of his memory, and raise a glass in gratitude for having known this strange and wonderful man.
Thanks for sharing, Damian. I see on FB that you’re in contact with Kyle’s Austin friends. Sending love to you.
There will be a gathering to remember Kyle at the Logger Bar on Monday, February 8th at 5pm. Please bring stories, photos, instruments, and a dish to share.
So very sad. He was always so engaging. I adopted a rooster from him that was too loud for his neighbors Worked with him at 6Rivers Brewery in the brewhouse off and on for years. This news just sucks. Rest in peace, friend. Check in any time.
A former Blue Laker texted me this awful news last night, and it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet. I hadn’t seen Kyle in a few years since we both moved away from Portland, but this doesn’t seem real. He’s supposed to be in Austin now living the dream, not taken away from us for forever.
It’s funny all the little things you remember about people, and how they seep in and change you and/or your perspectives in subtle ways. Kyle taught me the word “thermocline” one sunny day at the Farmhouse as he was discussing his sunburn. He was truly one-of-a-kind. Only Kyle would be discussing something as random as thermocline while hunting in the garden for aloe vera.
He once did a whole feng shui reading in my house taking hours to get everything just right. Thanks to Kyle, I always now close my toilet lid when not in use so as not to “collect stagnant chi.” In return for his careful plotting of my sacred space, I gave him a tarot card reading. We interpreted it as he needed to move to Portland, like so many other Blue Lakers at the time of the “Great Northern Migration” circa 2008-09, to pursue his musical career. He moved up not long afterward and I followed close behind.
While in Portland, I’d introduce him to new friends as “Cool Rocks,” which became my nickname for him because of a Jade Stems song about searching in the forests and on the beaches for cool rocks. I thought it was the coolest song ever, because who doesn’t like looking for cool rocks? And who else would’ve thought to make a song out of it? Only Kyle.
My first birthday in Portland, as I was moping about doom-and-gloom style, depressed over something as ridiculous as my birthday, Kyle helped organize a spur-of-the-moment music show/birthday party at a friend’s coffee shop/theatre space. He showed up with his electric saw wearing thick black eyeliner. Really, only Kyle could get away with pulling off such a strange and wonderful combo. The highlight of the evening was having my then two-year-old daughter pulled up on stage to sing me happy birthday to the accompaniment of an electric saw over ambient techno. Thank you, Kyle. You turned that day around into one of the most memorable birthdays ever.
We saw each other less seldom in Portland. A trek from the Southeast up to where Kyle lived in the far Northeast wasn’t as easy as meandering up a gravel road to the Farmhouse anymore. I had to leave Portland in a hurry in less than ideal circumstances and didn’t get a chance to say good-bye to Kyle or many other friends. I had heard he had gone to Austin, though, to keep on pursuing his musical career. I think the Portland winters were a bit much for a Florida boy, and I was happy he had moved to another place with a happenin’ music scene.
Again, in my mind he’s still in Austin making wonderful, weird music on that saw of his. To think that he’s no longer with us just boggles my mind. Wherever you are now, Kyle, I know you’re searching for cool rocks on the banks of a warm, beautiful river, beloved Indy at your side, smiling down on all of us as you now know all the secrets of the Universe. Rest in peace, my friend, you will be dearly missed.
This is Steve Scott, Kyle’s Dad. The wreck occurred at 10:47 central time, Saturday morning January 31st in Robertsdale, Alabama. Kyle was just 13 minutes behind me. We had spent the night with my sister and brother-in-law after an 8 day epic pilgrimage road trip to the Florida Keys. I met his Mom there in 1967 when I was in the Navy. It was a joyful journey and he reunited with many cousins, two of whom I had not seen in 38 years. They all still consider me family even though his Mom (a wonderful lady) and I have not been together since 1976. There was never more than 5 minutes of silence in the car. Also, knowing Kyle, you will appreciate that we recited almost every line from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, sang songs, made up more, spoke in tongues (authentic gibberish), discussed the meaning of life, and found rare plants forms. We agreed that the trip could not have been more perfect. It was a gift to me from God. Although I am having to go through Hellish things, I am at peace. I have even managed somehow to forgive the low-life that hit him from behind at 125 miles an hour. We are having a small private family gathering in Fairhope, Alabama Saturday 7th and next January 31st we will scatter his ashes at his favorite place in the Florida Keys. I cherish all your stories and comments and they keep alive his memory. I would love to hear from Kyle friends and fans. You can find my Facebook page on Kyle’s page. My email is: Stephen.scott@mchsi.com. Please give me a week or so. Steve
I miss him, still.
~Gypsy Gies, his roommate.