Dylan Thomas More obit

Dylan Thomas More Has Died 

He was not on the list.

When an artist passes on, we all have a tendency to reminisce on the impact that they’ve have had on us, either individually or on the community as a whole. We talk about the first time we experienced this person’s contributions – the first time we saw a painting, a movie, heard a song, saw a live performance, and we use phrases like “end of an era” or the like to designate some measure of import and significance to what they created… and rightfully so. We now live in the age of social media, where the mystique between artist and audience has been somewhat eroded, where people are able to share more personal thoughts and facets of themselves while still possessing enough of a buffer of safety behind the screen. We have more of an opportunity to see artists and musicians no longer as mythic or unattainable… we might actually get to see them as real people with real emotions and real lives.

I’ve been working in ReGen for approximately 18 years, and in that time, I’ve met some amazing people. They say to never meet your heroes, for they will often disappoint you… and while I would be lying if I said that I haven’t been let down by several people over time, I can say in all honesty that none of them were people I considered heroes during my formative years – I’ve met most of them, and they’ve all been among the most wonderful human beings I’ve encountered. Among them… was Dylan Thomas More.

You needn’t be bothered with some long story of how I first heard Chemlab as an angsty teen in search of his own identity, hearing a song on a compilation, soundtrack or movie trailer, a random advertisement, or a friend’s mixtape, or finding an album on Limewire or Napster, etc. Suffice to say, Chemlab was one of those bands that gave me – gave us all – that wonderful term of “Rivethead,” realizing my love of music that was “other,” that wasn’t just one thing – not just industrial, not just electronic, not just rock & roll, not just anything… other than the truly outsider stuff that it was (and really, still is). And I came to love those names of Jared Hendrickson and Dylan Thomas More, as much as I loved Hypo Luxa and Hermes Pan, as much as I loved Van Christie and Jim Marcus, Sascha Konietzko and EN ESCH, Bill Leeb and Rhys Fulber, Eric Powell, Raymond Watts, etc. etc. etc. Those names became etched into my brain, as if carved out of rusted metal plating by a jackhammer… his was a name that I defined in my mind as a star of “rock n’ rivet.”

My memory is somewhat hazy, but I believe it was in May of 2007 when Acumen Nation and Front Line Assembly were touring and performed at the 9:30 Club in Washington, DC. I was still a fledgling writer at ReGen at the time, but was steadily making the acquaintance of these people whose music shaped me. After the show, I met Jamie Duffy on the floor, and in the midst of our conversation, he said, “Oh, hey, Dylan!” I turned to see a face that I remembered from magazine articles… and Jamie said, “Dylan, this is Ilker, he’s with ReGen Magazine. You two should talk.” I shook his hand, and very likely with a shaky voice said, “So nice to meet you.” It was still sinking into my brain what was happening, and when he asked me what ReGen was, I told him, “Well, it’s an online publication that covers a lot of… well, y’know, the kind of stuff you created.” His expression was so pricelessly befuddled that in retrospect, I wish I could’ve caught it on camera. “What do you mean?” I answered incredulously, “Machine rock, industrial rock, people trying to sound like Chemlab, y’know.” He said, “Wait, you know who I am?”

We then talked for another 10 minutes before I finally said, “I would love to InterView you for ReGen. I think people would love to read about you and what you’re up to now.” His lady friend (sadly, I don’t recall her name) nudged him and said, “See? People want to know about you.” I can’t speak to other people’s experiences or their much deeper familiarity of his character, but it felt like a genuinely modest response from someone who in my mind was a musical titan. We exchanged phone numbers, and within a month or a month-and-a-half, he’d called to invite me to meet him at a bar in DC… I can’t remember the name of it. I had my recorder, and I had InterView questions prepared… but we were on an outside patio in a busy part of town, and it became abundantly clear that there was too much distraction for any sort of “official” InterView to happen seriously.

… I wish I still had that recording.

Over the next three hours, Dylan and I talked a lot about music – Chemlab, rock & roll, pop music, electronics and synthesizers, the banality he perceived in live shows… and we ended up both getting fairly drunk and playing pool before I realized that I still had to drive back home to Baltimore and go to work in the morning. We still had each other’s numbers, and we’d text from time-to-time before adding each other on our social media pages. Communication would be sporadic over the next several years, but I took joy in watching him share his visual creations on Instagram and Facebook, only occasionally talking about music.

I never saw Chemlab onstage until December of 2007, well after More was no longer in the band, with Jared Louche carrying on in his own inimitable fashion. I was with a musician whose band I’d just joined, and who in the midst of an alcoholic stupor proceeded to tell Jared how much Chemlab’s music meant to him, how “Chemlab taught me how to program.” Jared nodded gleefully and said, “Well, I can’t take credit for all of that; that was all Dylan.” Again, regardless of anyone else’s perceptions of the man, that was a genuine human moment from someone I considered a hero… giving the most humble praise to someone that he hadn’t seen or spoken to in 10 years by that point.

Waking up on Monday, January 6 to the news that Dylan Thomas More had passed away the past Saturday… it hurts. Yes, it’s a sad reality that time and generations pass, people die and leave us with memories that will fade along with us when it’s our time. And it hurts. We live a sizeable portion of our lives pining for the glorious vibrancy of our youth, looking to our heroes to reform and revitalize, only to lament missed opportunities and things that once were that can never be again. And it hurts. We shed our tears, share our memories, raise our glasses, and celebrate these artists who left us something so vital, so ephemeral that we can’t imagine life or a world before them. And it hurts.

There are many who knew Dylan Thomas More far more intimately than I did, who were much closer friends with him, and for whom his loss is more painfully felt. I grieve with them, and of course, I don’t mind saying that I envy them… for who I got to meet and speak with… yes, he was a hero to me, but my experience was something else. We spoke and hung out with each other not as an idol and acolyte… but as friends. And I can say that I have a genuine friendship with many musicians that I’ve met – people who called me out of nowhere to ask how life is going, to share pictures of their kids, to talk about… well, anything.

For many, he was Dylan from Chemlab… for me, he was my friend Dylan.

“The king is dead… long live the fucking king.”

Never meet your heroes… for they may fail to disappoint you.

Chemlab is an American industrial rock band formed in Washington D.C. in 1989 by Dylan Thomas More, Joe Frank, and Jared Louche (then known as Hendrickson). Influenced by the pioneers of the industrial genre, such as Throbbing Gristle, Chemlab mixed experimental sounds with rock and metal within an electronic framework. They released their first EP 10 Ton Pressure (1990), parted ways with Frank and moved to New York City, their base for the duration of their career. Chemlab released their debut album Burn Out at the Hydrogen Bar in 1993 and toured with acts such as White Zombie, KMFDM, Nine Inch Nails, 16volt, and GWAR.