I met Devon Clifford in September last year. We’d been introduced in passing before, when I was interviewing lead singer Becky Ninkovic for a few stories about their indie-rock/pop/dance band You Say Party! We Say Die! at various shows around Vancouver. But, my only one-on-one time with Devon came when the band landed the coveted October cover of Exclaim!, a national music magazine, in advance of their new, and best, record, XXXX.
I was anxious, since it was my first story for Exclaim!, but it felt right because I loved YSP!WSD! It was a match made in punctuation heaven. I got to the studio and Devon was there, chaining up his bike, a lanky man with ginger hair, a quick wit, and a teasing charm. Within three minutes he told me I was the runner up journalist, that a friend of the band had been asked to write the piece first, but had said no because it would be awkward. I told him I liked sloppy seconds, that it was cool. He laughed and started telling me funny stories about being on the road with his other band over the summer and his work at the Downtown Eastside Portland Hotel Society. Later, during the interviews, he made sure I had a beer and was taken care of while we talked about the new album, the band’s rebirth, and the possibility that after five years, this would be their big break.
It would be. It could be. But after their first trip touring across North America, they came home to Vancouver for a quick rest before embarking on their European tour. They played a homecoming show, April 17, 2010 at the Rickshaw Theatre, and the unthinkable happened when Devon collapsed on stage, falling to the ground behind his drum kit. A few short hours later he was dead, the result of a massive hemorrhage from an undiagnosed defect.
I barely knew him and I was devastated. Our favourite bands feel like family to us, are responsible for crafting music we identify and comfort ourselves with. Having an opportunity to briefly connect with him those few times, well I’m lucky and I won’t forget that. He was just 30 years old, as well. A year younger than me. I can’t forget that, either.
What I respected most about him, in our brief conversations, was how much he obviously loved what he did. He was a musician and he played in plenty of bands, but he was also someone who wasn’t afraid of helping the people who need it most, as his work at the Portland demonstrated. He was just 30, but his was such a fully realized life. He did what he wanted, he knew what he wanted. His wouldn’t be a life unfinished or full of regret.
His parents were quoted the next few days in a variety of obituaries, including the wonderful one written by Francois Marchand of the Vancouver Sun. “We want to say to musicians and parents, ‘Even though your child has chosen a path that you might not have wanted him to or know will be a hard one for them, if they need that in their life, then let them follow their passion and encourage them and support them as best you can. Devon was really satisfied with his music. It was all about him, his band and their fans.’”
That this is one of the first things his parents had the clarity to say in what could only have been a haze of grief at having lost their son, speaks volumes about the Clifford family. This gentle encouragement to allow children to blaze their own trail, coupled with Devon’s music, becomes the kind of legacy most can only dream of leaving.
Photo Credit
“Devon Clifford” courtesy of www.yousaypartywesaydie.ca
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