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RIP Kirk Rundstrom

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'

--Henry V, Act 3, Scene 1

Kirk Rundstrom, singer, songwriter and guitarist of the punk-bluegrass band Split Lip Rayfield, died Thursday morning in Wichita. He was 38. He had been fighting the effects of esophageal cancer since February 2006.

One chemo filled shit from Kirk Rundstrom, lying steaming in a Wichita gas station toilet, is worth more than 10 Kenny Chesneys. This is a sad day for me. If you haven't ever bought a new or used copy of a Split Lip Rayfield CD, today would be a good day to go out and get one.

The above link also goes to a story where you can donate to Cancer research in Kirk's name if you're so inclined.

I only saw Split Lip Rayfield about 100 times. I've got nothing but good memories...hot sweaty ones, where I made a lot of bad decisions and regretted none of them. The band's music not only has muscle, but the sinews are like shiny bands of titanium, scratched only by the figurative bullets of life, that have ricocheted off of them into the dull ether of American popular sound.

Days like today make me sick.

Posted by Jack Sparks at February 22, 2007 4:51 PM

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