Craig Finn wrote a beautiful piece about the death of Matthew Fletcher in yesterday's Guardian Film & Music. It's about Matthew, and it's about music and being connected, and... well, you should read it all. Here's a taste:
I still spend time thinking about Mathew Fletcher, his sister, and their other bandmates spending time in a rehearsal space somewhere. My version goes like this: Someone came up with the chords to Space Manatee. Someone added the lyrics. They probably took a break for a beer or cigarette break. They made inside jokes with each other. They came back and played the song even better. They added it to their live set.
At some point, they recorded the song and pressed up a single. It made its way to KUOM in Minneapolis and got played on the radio. I was driving. I heard the song. It felt great. I bought the single. It's a simple story, but a moving story as well. Mathew Fletcher and his band mates put their time, energy, and love into their art. A distant world away, this effort brought me a small bit of euphoria. This is the beauty of the relationship we have with music, the way it can bring small doses of joy into our lives.