Pretty War STL

there was something magical about that weird july 4th afternoon. i was really impressed with the sincerity of their performance. hunter kept telling stories about that song from woody guthrie or how he learned this one from reading the alan lomax book "the land where the blues began". heck it was fun and educational...and then that weird saw.

Nearly eleven years ago, as a biology student, I took an English Lit class because it was a pre-requisite. Most of the students were there for the same reason with one notable exception; Hunter Brumfield IIV (his roman numeral, not mine).

Hunter was deeply enthralled by the readings and made the class much more enjoyable. Over that semester we became friends. I often took him home or dropped him off at other places after class. He was a good, kind hearted person. I remember, as a young college student thinking he was really "deep". We lost touch after that class ended, until about one month ago when he showed up in my own backyard to entertain the guests at our barbeque with his guitar.

After realizing we knew each other he gave me a huge hug with what seemed to me a more genuine exclamation that "it's great to see you after all these years!" than one normally gets when casually running into an old friend. Hunter and Lindy were the last two people to leave our house that night. We had a great time and looked forward to seeing Hunter play a gig some time. We missed the one he played last week, but had hoped to catch him another time. Now, I'm sorry we missed it.

Hunter said several times that night in our backyard that Linda Kick's english class changed his life because it introduced him to the poet William Blake. We had read "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell". So I will end this long comment with a short quote.

"He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star."
From The Marriage of Heaven and Hell by William Blake

May Hunter's light shine infinite.

http://www.riverfronttimes.com/issues/1999-10-20/music/music2.html

Hunter was not only brilliant, charismatic, exhaustingly multi-talented, and passionately and unpretentiously socially/politically conscious and active. He was the best friend that anyone could ask for.

It is not an exageration to say that I could regal you with example after example of the inumerable times he's gone -without thought, just because of who he was- above and beyond to be there for me, and to be a friend to others, even to complete strangers.

He could cheer me up no matter how sad I was, and was just the best person to make fun memories with.

My first memory of seeing Hunter changed my life... but get this, I didnt know it until years later.

I was fifteen. I was with my friend Arthur at one of the Articas. Hunter, or rather -to me- some funny little guitarist in a top hat and I think even shirt tails, was outside the Lemp Brewery entertaining a small crowd. Next to him was Heather... um... "Oh-Shawn-A-See" (thank you, hooked on phoinics). and she was playing a saw. "Hmmm" I thought. Hunter sang Freddy's song "Transvestites and Wine" that night. I thought it was the very best song I'd ever heard.

I told my best friend Alice about that song when I was seventeen... two years after hearing it just that once... and she was supprised I knew it.

Why? She was living in Oregon at the time. There was an obscure jug band in town that did that song. We thought..... "The guy in the top hat must have been traveling from Oregon that night!" I later learned that Hunter had spent some time traveling the northwest, and he was delighted when i told him that he had seeded St. Louis songs ...but, how could you meet Hunter, and not catch that seed of inspiration?

Hunter was also what you might call "connected" to... um... something. He has a lot of crazy stories that give the impression that there's a reason other than chance he's done all he's done and has lived this long (amazing he's been mooning death this long and now here he is STILL with the last laugh afterall... in that only HE could kill him, try as probability and consequence might.) And, in that sense, I always felt that if there was some extrasensory vibe in the air he would be sharp enough to know it and act upon it.

For example, one of the first times we hung out, we were at a guitar circle (Miko's rent party) and I was playing my saw with him, and thinking--but I didnt say anything about it-- "Gee, I wish I knew Transvestites and Wine..." cause I wanted it to get played that night. And Hunter started playing it just as i thought that. Thats serrendipitous, right?

Hunter was obsessed sometimes with coincidences, and indeed they were the irony and the foundation of his wacky persuits and our relationship. Songs would follow him around. He'd read a book about Leadbelly in a bar, and an Aerosmith Leadbelly cover woud come on the juke box.... He'd wonder what the words were to a song he'd started forgetting, and someone we didnt know would soon walk by singing it.

I could stay up all night and make this comment a freakin novel, but instead I'll stop here.

Wait there's one more thing I want to share before I get off Dre's computer:

Recall, that unusually booming voice little 5'5" Hunter sang with.

When Hunter was fifteen, he was taken to the doctor for a physical. the doctor made him blow into one of those things that measures your lung capacity. Hunter thought "Oh no! Now my parents are gonna know I smoke.... I'll be grounded for life...RRRrr." The doctor came back in the room shocked. "Ms. Carter, your son has a lung capacity that would be typical of a man over six feet tall."

Yeah, he was one well-hung songster. Yessiree.

I heard something about a thing at Tower Grove tonight. Can anyone tell me any more about that?

Emily,
Bob Reuter stopped by the Lounge last night,
Here's info he passed on:
Hunter's friends have planned a memorial service at
Tower Grove Park at 7 pm Thursday.
(At the Ruins/Sailboat Pond
west of the music stand,
on the upland near the Shakespeare statue.)

Bob will be hosting Noiseday Hootenanny Open Mic.
immediately after at Frederick's,
and asked me to pass along invitation to anyone
who would like to sing,tell a story,or just share time
with others thinking about Hunter.

we'll miss you, lil' biscuit.

I tried to email Emily earlier, but I dont know if she got my email... My mom's computer is newfangled to me.

Anyway, for anyone at all that would like the info, here it is:

Memorial service
7pm tonight (Thursday)
Tower Grove Park, at the fountain

Several folks have already made plans to bring instruments. I personally would encourage anyone who feels like they have something to share; be it art, sound, just memories, or anything, to please feel free and welcome to do so.

And Tom, I hope you and Maggie can make it. I really appreciate this post, as well as the clips. It helps me very much, personally, to see so many people remembering Hunter and all his talents and especially knowing that there are all these recordings and pictures left behind. Thank you so much.

Ope... didnt see your post Bob. Thanks.

R.I.P. DJ Toast

I didn't know Hunter well as well as many of you, but I was always struck by him. I always got the feeling he was a true believer. By that, I mean I almost always felt I was around a person who was inspired by life and music and people. After being in his pressence, hearing him talk, or talking to him, I usually felt better about life. That's a rare thing.

When I moved here in 1999, the first band I was really taken by was the Matrons. Hunter's performances were absolutely electric and possessed an x-factor or star quality not seen in a lot of players. I was really looking forward to his new stuff which I heard was forthcoming.

I can't say Hunter was a personal friend of mine, but he was certainly a part of what I identify with when I think of good things in St. Louis. Rock on.

I have memories of Hunter playing crazy good bass with the matrons & thinking he really set things on fire, he was an amazing player. He came to our ouija recording sessions and helped us out with percussion by playing an empty beer keg and a shaker on a few songs because he was talented on anything that he wanted to turn into an instrument. Last year I made a film about the St. Louis Arts & Entertainment Underground & I happened to run into Hunter over at Patti's house one night and told him about the project & he told me he wanted to be in the film, I told him that would be great and he just needed to show up at Mangia if he wanted to say a few words about Wayne St. Wayne who was one of my main subjects. I thought he'd probably forget or something, because he's a musician & well you know how musicians are.....but he surprised me by not only showing up, but bringing his artwork and stories about how Wayne St. Wayne had influenced his art & with the most brilliant quotes about what art is and what creativity meant to him and I remember walking away from that interview thinking to myself - I sure am lucky to have such cool & profound people for friends. Hunter was many things - a very talented artist and musician, a deep thinker, a crazy drinker at times (like the rest of us), and a very thoughtful and sensitive person, he drifted in and out of our circle and I am sad that he has permanently drifted away.

I'll post again, I'm sure, but just wanted to share this Hunter-penned review which I found today:

Music to make you smile, daddy., January 10, 2003
Reviewer: Hunter Brumfield from O'Fallon, MO United States
I'm on a personal crusade to make the world get hip to one of the most underrated, overlooked pioneers of jazz, Eddie Jefferson. As early as 1939, he was experimenting with penning lyrics to recorded horn solos, a syllable for each note, note for note verbatim, and singing them while incorporating scat techniques. What was a fun way to kill time for Eddie eventually blossomed into a whole new area of jazz expression, called "vocalese". Because the first public exposure of vocalese was King Pleasure's hit record "Moody's Mood for Love", many mistakenly assumed that Pleasure was its father, an assumption that he actively promoted. However, the concept and lyrics to "Moody's Mood" were actually Eddie Jefferson's. This would set the tone for Eddie's relegation to virtual obscurity.
What I love about Eddie Jefferson's work, besides his wholey unique voice, honest and candid and smokey with 50's hipster cool, is his lyric composition which, by necessity, has a conversational quality. Both hip-hop and vocalese, because of their formal structures, demand a certain amount of verbosity on the part of the artist. Jefferson's lyrics aren't always as much poetic as prosey, like a street corner conversation that happens to rhyme in places. So, lyrically, he sometimes wanders off into some truly absurdist territory that is hilarious. "I saw a snake with hips/ A chicken with lips/ and that is why I ran away." If Dr. Seuss was a be-bop hipster! And as far as rhyme goes, Eddie is very much unbound by any expectations imposed by rhyme schemes. Through and through, theoretically, he is as spontaneous and free as the horn solo he is working within. And he knows how to pick 'em. This album finds him tackling one of the most beautiful solos in jazz, Miles Davis' from "So What". In this, as in many of Eddie's tunes, he tells a bit of Miles' life story, raps about his fashion sense, the public's perception of him, and how far Miles' thinking was in the future. He reminisces about Charlie Parker in a treatment of Bird's immortal "Now's the Time", written just after his death. I love when Eddie sings Bird, because he's often required to sing a paragraph of words within one bar of music-- so fast you can barely make out what he's saying, but annunciated perfectly. Also a highlight of this album is his take on Coleman Hawkins' "Body and Soul", which I can't praise highly enough. And his version of "Honeysuckle Rose", which I first heard once ten years ago and has been planted in my brain ever since. He's all over it!

I really miss him. He was a wonderful musician and poet. I am living in the Virgin Islands, heard the news Wed and rec'vd a email sent from Hunter on the 31st,that I opened today, he said he was setting out to a world unknown. I hope he's made it there. I am shocked and stunned. Any one with any info or who wants to share the love, please post or contact. Thanks, Les Burnside

peace to you Hunter,
you were, are, and always will be
the real thing....
your version of "California Stars"
in my memory will forever burn and sing....
bless you brother.......

Brett’s post reminded me of a Hunter story. One night Hunter was going through my CD collection, which made me more than a little bit nervous because I believe a person’s taste in music (and books) can speak volumes about that person and I guess I was afraid Hunter wouldn’t approve. He seemed pleased and more than a little surprised to find not only Eddie Jefferson, but also Straight out the Jungle and a few other CDs in my collection that had influenced him. (If he saw that Nelly CD, he was kind enough not to berate me.) He told me he wrote reviews and posted them at Amazon.com. I’ve since made several purchases based on Hunter’s recommendations. Brett and others may be interested in reading other book, music and even a movie review written by Hunter. Below is a link to that site.
http://www.amazon.com/gp/cdp/member-reviews/A94ZRBOFO8QUH/ref=cm_aya_bb_rev/002-0904963-6057632?%5Fencoding=UTF8

Just heard the news about two hours ago, and I'm stunned; although for some reason when I got the call, I knew something was wrong, and although I hadn't spoken to Hunter in five years, that it was about Hunter.
I met Hunter when he was dating my roommate Maggie, was introduced to him as DJ Toast, and we would stay up late smoking, drinking, and rhyming to the beats he would lay out - Man! The way that cat could boogie! He could make an instrument outta air, his little cap on his head and his outfits that could only be Hunter, laying rhythm on rhyme, or picking up my guitar...
I remember a kind, gentle willo' wisp of a man who would knock on my bedroom door and sit in bed with me and give me a shoulder to cry on when I was sad about a boy or about anything in life. Someone who would be so very very happy when things were going right in the lives of his friends. Someone who wore my underwear for a photo shoot with Freddy and the band. A brilliant star who sang his heart out while he wailed on guitar. An impish boy who gleefully sat on my lap in Mangia, happy that I was engaged to his friend. A man who was always changing, always evolving, always becoming, always leaving and always returning to the foundation of who he was and where his heart began: his music, his friends.

Hunter, I was unable to cry two hours ago, but now I am, as I allow myself to remember...I am sorry I had not seen you since I moved to New York, but the distance in time and place has not removed those memories and images that are beautifully burned and stored, wrapped with lace and kisses, in my mind.
Rest in peace, now, darlin'.

Hunter and I were house-mates, friends, philospohical jousters, tetchy around eachother, etc. for over 10 years.

Hunter inspired me, loved me, caused me to love and hate him, grossed me out (as a house-mate), turned me onto to some cool shit and was turned onto some cool shit by me. In re-reading the last sentence, I don't think I could come up with a better definition of what a friend is.

My absolute favorite Hunter memory? Walking down Wyoming, one fine afternoon, enroute to the Blackthorn for pizza and beer, Hunter and I ran into Patti (from Ouija) and her nine year old daughter, Ashley. We stopped to chat for a moment and then began to head out on our way, when I hear, "See you later, mom, I'm going to the Blackthorn with Hunter and Mike." Younger chicks always dug Toast.

Last Hunter memory? Standing outside a "ladies who love ladies" bar on Manchester during Venus Envy. We were both Maidrite widowers/roadies (though, I'd say as the sawplayer's squeeze, he had an easier gig than me, the drumschlepper) and we were standing outside avoiding the horrid techno pounding in the bar. Well, I guess Hunter had pounded a couple PBRs too many before his arrival and wouldn't you know, out comes the schlong und piss, watering the sidewalk in front of God and all creation and all art-admirers. Hee-hee!

Over the years, I got staighter and he got more extreme, so we saw eachother less. I'll always miss him and his enthusiasm for life. I'm crying as I write this. Goddamn this is hard.

I still got your Boogie Down Productions and Public Enemy CDs, anytime you want, stop by and pick them up, buddy.

"Run with the hunted and love every step."
-Charles Bukowski

Hi I'm Lizzy. My mom and I lived with Hunter until last year so I felt like I got to know him and I have some stories. One time a week before Hallooween we decided we were bored so we went to an old graveyard that was on a hill and we decided to play hide and go seek. My mom and I ran off from him and we got scared and out of nowhere Hunterr came and found us and we were it. It was really odd for freaks like us to be doing that in such a small town. We were the odd balls of the town, New Harmony. We made lots of jokes about it afterwards, about how funny it was to play in a graveyard.
Once at Christmas I came home from my grandparents house to a tree full of presents. It was a week until Christmas so I had to wait to open them. But in the morning I got up early and before they even thought about getting up and I went to take a peek at my presents. I unwrapped the first one and seeing how fun it was I decided to open the rest. But then I realized hey, i'm gonna get in trouble if they see this, so i wrapped them back up again. And then the next day I wrote a Christmas list for htem and wrote down everything they got for me on the list. They were happy to see that they'd gotten me everything I wanted.
I can't figure out how to say how I feel about Hunter dying. There's so many things I could say and I don't think there's a way to say all of them. Everytime I think about it I start crying. Hunter I miss you really bad and I thought I would see you again someday and I'm sad that I won't. Love, Lizzy, (stinky butt)

most of you probably already know this, but hunter initiated a blog earlier this year. it's at:

http://alohafromhell.blogspot.com

one of his more devastating posts, a eulogy for his best friend wyatt who died last year, was within only the last couple of weeks, removed. as with many pursuits in his life, hunter blogged only sporadically, but the content of what he did write as "kid subliminal" is signficant and really reflects hunter's verbal adroitness and his singular take on this ol' fucked up world. and rip-roaring hilarious! i've never laughed so much with anyone! and you will see by following links to the blogs of those who posted on his that even in cyberspace, hunter was a healer.
having seen every conceivable shade of this dazzling multi-hued larger than life individual, there's no way for me to tidily summarize what he meant to me in life, and what losing him means to me now. i will say that as "confident" as that little renaissance man-child could be, even he would be astounded and moved by the outpouring of love and sorrow expressed publicly here, and by others more privately, literally around the world. sweety, you did get around! i know you have a bigger stage now, more souls to touch with your one of a kind magic wand, but don't you dare forget us all back here...aww, what am i thinking, you never were one to forget your roots.
i love you Hunter to no end, boundlessly and infinitely. i'm listening to warren zevon and gram parsons non-stop. see you on the other side baby.

"Those not busy being born are busy dying"
- bob dylan

I just found out within the last hour or two that Hunter is gone.

I found Hunter Marion Brumfield III under a tree at the Henderson Bluegrass Festival three years ago. The bluegrass was marginal and Hunter was sitting in the grass way in the back with an odd bunch of old men who were swapping licks and tunes. I had actually just returned from a trip home to get some guitars to join this very group when I found this curious little dude in a thrift store hat hanging out there too.

As would be expected, the old guys specialized in even older material which of course explains why Hunter was there. It was a glorious August afternoon, by the river with a breeze and some old dudes holding court with their music. After everybody else had played a few tunes Hunter asked if he could use an ancient old Kay guitar I had recently picked up. I also had a really nice Martin which I would have let him use, but he wanted the Kay.

He sang Tennessee Stud and I fell in love. To say I was smitten with Hunter the moment I heard him sing and play would be a gross understatement. And I have been haunted by his presence ever since. He is without doubt the most profound talent I have even had the pleasure to know. My heart will never be quite as full knowing I cannot spend another breezy afternoon under a tree sharing a few moments with him.

I haven't known him as long or as dearly as most of you, but I believe I can claim to have loved him, and still love him as a dear friend and kindred spirit. Hunter and I spoke about spirituality and God on many occasions and I hope that in some other time, in some other level of existence I can once again taste his wonderful spirit and feel his presence.

He will be missed and I will save a place in my soul for my dear friend. I will also pray that my own spiritual journey will lead me, once again to a chance meeting with Hunter in some finer place.

I pray also for long awaited and much deserved peace for Hunter, his friends and his family.

In the name of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, I pray.

Steve Champion
Henderson, KY

here's a song hunter liked to listen to at open mics. i felt like i reached the top of mount everest the times he asked me to play it. he was one of the most talented people i've ever known.
and i wish i could remember the cowboy actor he said i looked like...

Ask You Why

I’m not gonna ask you why
I don’t want to have to ask you when
I might convince you with a little more feeling
and why won’t my prayers even reach the ceiling?

I’m so drunk that I need subtitles
I swear I quit looking for myself in the bible
never was partial to the Tower of Babel
It hasn’t happen yet – or it might one day…

Jesus, if you let me into Heaven
oh, Please
Let there be Hell on the television

Newspaper read – the police found a body
Someone just kicked it to the side of the road
and all i remember thinking about was
"Thank God! it wasn’t my own!"

I had the pleasure of knowing Hunter, aka DJ Toast. I met him in 1989, he had just arrived from chicago.. I kind of became a mentor to him as a D.J. and we used to hang out quite a bit.. I had a bad habit of running a video camera ALL the time, So I have some really cool video of hunter on different occasions.. I am going to make this footage available soon on DVD, In his memory.. I also retain the only copy of the Sky Bop Fly album that he recorded w/ Jon Brown and the band.. A phenomenal CD to say the least.. I eventually would like to make that available as well, compliments of Chris Neuenkirk... I really wish that he would have stayed more in touch w/ me in these final days, But he was a person that kept evolving and changing and I knew that I couldn't change that.. If he needed anything, I would stop what I was doing and talk to him, But I heard nothing... I will eventually see him in time.. Toast: R.I.P. So long for now, DJ Chilly-C

I just noticed the RFT did a cover story. I think it describes him well, although I didn't know him as much as most of you.
dionna

I was happy to read these memories. I was sitting in the same room with Lindy when she typed hers, but had to be alone at home a week later to read them! I was also a latecomer to that 4th of July party described above. Hunter was a close friend at two times in our lives. Most recently, I was playing music in a band with Hunter these last four months. I have some recordings, sloppy ones, I'm willing to share, and a loooong essay, sort of a meditation on suicide, that I wrote trying to cope with the shock and sadness, which is worse now that the excitement of the news is over but he's still dead. Anyway, please email me if you want to read my essay, as it's far too long to post here. I miss this vivid little guy very badly. Peace ...

I didn’t know Hunter all that well, but along with many people in this category, Hunter made an immediate and lasting impression on me, including one which I would like to share.

Reading some of the other posts, I was grabbed by Lindy’s recollections of Hunter singing the Fred song “Transvestites and Wine” and this rang a bell with me.

I have been playing in Mangia and hosting the open mic there since I moved here almost six years ago now, and it was at one of these that a funny looking little guy with an interesting sense of fashion asked me could he play a few tunes. Well he just BELTED them out with much gusto – and finished his set with “Transvestites…” which had me just rolling in the aisles I was laughing so hard. Afterwards we had some drinks and a chat, and Hunter gave me all the backstory on the tune, and even offered to write it out for me so I could learn it myself.

Now, when I lived in Ireland, I used to regularly frequent an open mic in the International Bar in Dublin, hosted by a guy called Dave Murphy. Dave was a bit of a jerk – somewhat bitter at his own breaks in the music business – but the tone of his open mic was one of reverence for the music and musicians and conversation was not permitted during performances, and covers were not permitted at all. As a result of this, his night was the one to go to for Irelands major and minor celebrities and a whole clatter of wannabe’s like myself. There was always a long queue to play, and even the biggest names were only ever allowed to play a maximum of three songs. I only ever got to play just one song on any given evening – boo hoo.

So, the last time I was home, armed with a borrowed guitar, I went back to the International and got in line. When my turn came, I apologized to Dave and the crowd that I would not be playing one of my own songs but a little ditty that I had picked up on my travels in St Louis. Recalling Hunter’s gusto, I proceeded to launch into “Transvestites…” with all the bravado I could muster. (I’m sure I fucked up the words a bit – I always do! But it was Hunter’s delivery which had impressed me as much as the hilarious lyrics. Just as Paul Simon may have written “Bridge Over Troubled Water”, the song is owned by Art Garfunkel for his spectacular rendition, I feel the same is true for Hunter’s rendition of Fred’s “Transvestites…”).

Anyway, when I finished, the place went NUTS, and for the very first time, I was asked to play another song at this sacrosanct open mic, to which I could only say “No, I’m sorry, but I got nothing to follow THAT with.” Very gratifying.

Thanks Hunter. I hope you have peace.

So many of these comments come from people who felt like they didn't know Hunter well, but were so touched by his personality and openness that they feel compelled to write. I think that says quite a deal about the kind of person Hunter was. He made everyone feel special and important and to have one conversation with Hunter was to get to know him on a much more intimate basis than with most people.

I think most women who met Hunter couldn't help but develop at least a bit of a crush on him. He was handsome, dressed well, treated everyone with respect, and brought out even the most hidden maternal instincts in us.

Hunter wasn't perfect, but he didn't try to act like he was. He was such a contradiction, a childish soul combined with an intelligent mind and a passion for life and living it his own way. I'll miss seeing him and speaking to him and I think we're all coming to terms with the fact that we can't have another memorable conversation with him. What a heartbreak.

I'd like to do my part of helping to keep some of Hunter's music in circulation. At least here In Henderson where he had begun to develop a following. Any recordings, video, lyrics and/or help will be appreciated.

There are several of his songs that cannot be allowed to fade away.

Phone calls are more than welcome. (270) 860-3537

I'd also like to contact Dennis who made the Henderson trip a few times.

Steve Champion
Henderson, KY

championsr@yahoo.com

www.forhunter.com

A memorial site, set up by my father... we need contributions.

Hunter and I met in a figure drawing class. Upon our equal respects for David Sedaris, we realized we both had common acquaintences and quickly became friends. He was sincere, polite, and a good person in general. He barely mentioned his austere musical background and never bragged. I simply thought he was a talented visual artist and talked extensively about art in general. I told him once he should write a book of tall tales when one day he said he was invariably responsible for graffitti art and hip hop in STL. Only today did I really find out that it was him who was Toast. Hunter is true at heart. Wish I was in town, wish I would have known now, which I would have kept in touch. You will be missed.

trying to find my friend of 25 years i saw on here..les "billy" burnside.. known as., les burnside.. bass player from missouri. born setptember 7 1959....if anyone, knows him.. or if he sees this.. please contact laura at.. dub_lin2001@yahoo.co.uk thankyou