2012 Karl

Karl Moore was a friend and fellow musician from our University days.  In July we heard from Karl’s sister Liz that he had cancer and wasn’t expected to live too long.  By August he had died.  

We went to the funeral in Nottingham, with Dave and Clare Mattey and friends of Karl from Patti O’Doors, the band Karl played with for many years after he left Cambridge.  Although it was a very sad occasion, it was wonderful to meet his sister Liz, and also to learn that he had a son Tom, who came to the funeral.

We played “Planxty Irwin” and “The King Of The Fairies” for Karl, tunes that he loved and used to play.

Even though we didn’t seem him much recently, it still seems to have left a hole, and we think of him a lot.

Mike spoke these words at the funeral,  on behalf of his University friends...

When we first met Karl at University in the early seventies, we could see straight away that he had something special about him.  I’ve been trying to decide what the best word for it is – and I thought maybe the word was  “aura”.  It sounds a bit of a grand word – but I looked up the definition of aura and it said “the distinctive atmosphere or quality that seems to surround and be generated by a person…” and I think that fits the bill.

He didn’t always say a huge amount, but when he did it was short and pithy, and more importantly than that, as we discovered, it was worth hearing.  I think Karl would like a Bob Dylan quote somewhere so here’s one that fits:  “If the arrow is straight, and the point is slick, it can pierce through dust no matter how thick”.  So when he did say something you listened.  If Karl said that “Eight Days A Week” was the best track on “Beatles For Sale” then you believed it was.

When we started to play music together it was clear that as well as deep love of the music, he knew stuff too.  He could quote Bob Dylan and Roy Harper, and he knew how to pronounce the names of the Irish tunes.  

But as well as that he also had a fierce integrity in his attitude to music, which was special and quite rare. When we were choosing songs to play in Zyzygy, I was pretty happy to play anything vaguely appropriate but Karl would say “No! We can’t do that” or “Yes we’ll do this”.  So he very much became a leader for us in the band in those years, and he set us high standards.

We knew he set these high standards, and we wanted to meet those standards.  You couldn’t accuse Karl of being lavish with his praise, but when you did something right you would just get a little nod or a look.  And when you got it wrong (which we often did) you’d get a different look –that famous “Karl look” which we all known well.  And the thing is we remember both those looks very fondly.  And actually playing the music today I can believe he’s not there somewhere, just keeping an eye on us, checking we get the chords right.

Later on we used to go on walking holidays with him each year.  Then again, like the music, we relied on his leadership and his inspiration.  He knew the best way up a mountain.  He could quote Wainwright and Poucher, and he knew how to pronounce the names of the Scottish Mountains.  So, he’d lead us up to the jagged Cuillin ridge on Skye, and we’d follow him – just like the hobbits following Gandalf into the Misty Mountains.  We trusted him.

And some of my favourite “Karl moments” are in the hills.  Apart from just taking us on fantastic walks which we’ll never forget, there are individual moments too.  Once we were on a particularly difficult bit of the Cuillin ridge and he suddenly pulled out a length of rope from his rucksac and said “Right! We’re going to have to swing round this pinnacle!”  So we swung round over this huge drop, looking very white.  But again we trusted him.  And Dave remembers fondly the time when Karl rolled a huge boulder down the mountain side in Skye, and it just missed crushing Dave’s car. And Karl luring Dave into playing all of Ziggy Stardust in their tents, when they should have been doing Geology.

So all of us have our cherished Karl moments. Moments of friendship,  moments of music, moments of wit.   And the good thing is, we’ll always have them. So thanks Karl from all of us..

Finally … Kate reminded me that when we sometimes went on walking holidays, and Karl couldn’t be there for some reason, we’d be a bit lost, and we’d look at each and say “Who’ll be Karl”.  So I can’t think of a more true and complete way to finish than to say to Karl from us all “Thanks… for being Karl”.