Another Fallen Soldier

by Justin on November 20, 2005 · 5 comments

Some of you out there may not have known Frostbyte, but you should still be mourning – the world is a dimmer place without him. Frostbyte made everything that I do now possible. He helped invent it. He helped build it. If not for his unyielding curiosity, drive, creativity, and technical genius, there would be no MIDI Turntable.

Losing Frostbyte is like loosing a Jimi Hendrix, far too young. Instead of a guitar, his instrument was a soldering iron. Instead of writing melodies, he wrote code. Instead of sound, his music was light. The pastor at his memorial connected the dots: light is a universal symbol of truth.

After the service, I cornered Nate on the way to a Pabst Blue Ribbon. “So how do you feel, dude?” I wondered. In classic Nathan deadpan-quizzical style he replied “Fine,” almost as if he had no idea what I was talking about. I continued to ponder “What do you think about it? Inevitable I guess.” Nate paused, just for a second. “He’s been absorbed back into the universe.”

That night, it seemed like a party only FB could have thrown. The whole gang was there: Charisse, Dustin, Slow, Lifto, Watson, Nate, Funky, all back together. Sitting in 23 watching the amazing audio synchronized lightshow, a wonderland Frostbyte helped create, I felt a surge of inspiration and creativity. I knew that now it was up to me to carry his work on.

Funky was struggling to make sense of it all; once she had pulled together some threads of meaning, she texted them to me, “Stay curious, say “love you”, be wary and leave a legacy… I won’t forget a single moment.” I learn these lessons again and again. I don’t think we can ever learn them enough, or strive hard enough to apply them in our own lives.

Frosbyte, I believe that wherever you are, you can read this. I bet you’ve got 72 virgins lined up waiting, and you’re still browsing the web, researching a project – probably some important, far off, fledgling constellation or something. I just want to say thank you. You burned bright, you burned fast, and you shined your light on everyone around you. Life is so intensely bittersweet.

RIP Kevin McCormick, 1976-2005