Memories of Jack Colwell

Over the past few days I’ve spent a long time trying to work out exactly when I first met Jack Colwell, and what I need to say about my friendship with him.

Trawling back through old hard drives, I found MSN Messenger chat history logs with him that date back to 2006. But I’m sure we met in our teens. It’s been at least 20 years.

The thing I’ve learned as I’ve read the many tributes to him is that whether you knew him for 20 or two years, it doesn’t really matter. People who’ve known him for far less time than me are still feeling and mourning his loss just as deeply.

We met online, as many young, queer kids did back in the early 2000s. He was a few years younger than me but he was so mature, confident and self-assured (the opposite of me at that time, in many ways) it felt like we could have been in the same year at school. The age difference didn’t matter.

The thing we had in common then, and the thread that bound our friendship together for years to come, was music. A deep love of music.

We had similar tastes. The holy trinity, as featured on that famous 1994 Q magazine cover that he coveted: Tori Amos, PJ Harvey, and Björk. Along with Nick Cave, Nick Drake, and Kate Bush – just to name a few. We constantly talked about and recommended to each other our latest new favourite artists. We went to so many gigs together. In the space of a few weeks in early 2008 we saw Andrew Bird, Sufjan Stevens, Björk, Joanna Newsom, Rufus Wainwright and PJ Harvey together. You can see us in these photos waiting excitedly to see Joanna, and Regina Spektor. Keep in mind that all of these gigs were in Sydney at a time when I still lived in Canberra. Many long treks up and back the Hume made easier and more appealing knowing that I had hangout time with Jack to look forward to when I got there.

When we weren’t going to gigs, we were going to indie clubs together to drink, dance, chase boys, laugh and have fun. I DJed at Rev at Bar 32 in Canberra, and one of the places Jack DJed was at Teen Spirit, a 90s-themed club night at Q Bar on Oxford Street. We would support each other, and on one special night in 2012 I got to join him behind the decks at Teen Spirit. He played trashy 90s pop, and I complemented with alternative and grunge. We made a good team. That night ended with him dancing on the decks, as I cheered him on with a grin on my face.

After we got tired of dancing, we’d head to karaoke. There are many grainy, questionable photos of us after midnight in dark, dingy karaoke dens across Sydney. Jack being Jack, he couldn’t help but steal the show. He was a natural performer and showman with such a powerful voice that he would always absolutely nail whatever song he chose to sing – from the Spice Girls to Hole to the Smashing Pumpkins.

In the days during and after I graduated from university in 2007 and tried to find my way in the public service, my side hustle, the thing that I really enjoyed doing, was music journalism. I wrote for and sub-edited BMA, Canberra’s street press, and used the magazine to interview Jack and promote his budding music career when he played in town. I watched him perform many times over the years, cheering him on as he grew and developed as a musician, a songwriter and an artist. I’ve got his CDs, vinyls and t-shirts. He would regularly send me early demos of songs, artwork or promo pictures taken to accompany his music to see what I thought. I was honoured that he trusted me to share work in progress with me, and that he valued my opinion.

As Jack’s music career took off, he would make sure that I was there to experience some of the thrills alongside him. There were so many “pinch me” moments. He took me backstage at the Opera House. He invited me to a Vivid afterparty where he introduced me to Karen O from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. When he befriended Sarah Blasko, knowing how much I love her music, he invited me to the pub so I could have a beer and a chat with one of my favourite musicians.

In late 2017, after the marriage equality plebiscite passed, I came to Jack with a crazy idea. My partner Matt and I had just got engaged. We’d met at a Patrick Wolf show at the Basement in Circular Quay in July 2007. What if I could somehow get Patrick to return to the Basement to play at our engagement party? How incredible and insane would that be! Well, Jack took my pipedream and turned it into a reality. He encouraged me and said, “Patrick’s going to be in the country soon to play at the Commonwealth Games, now’s your chance!”. He helped me craft an email to Patrick’s people, he squealed alongside me when Patrick said yes, he helped me book the Basement, and he arranged so many of the logistics when I had no clue how to (alongside my other dear friend, Cait). He even helped me pivot at the last minute to change venues to Giant Dwarf Theatre in Redfern when the Basement announced that they were closing, about two and a half weeks before the party was scheduled to take place. On the night of the party, he accompanied Patrick on stage, impressing many of my family and friends in the audience who hadn’t seen him play before. He helped me turn a ridiculous idea into an actual, real, grand romantic gesture, and it was perfect – one of the best nights of Matt’s and my lives. I couldn’t have done it without Jack and will be forever grateful to him for those memories.

The above two images were taken by Chantel Bann.

Also in 2017, Jack encouraged me to join Polyphony, the choir that he had conducted and led for a few years. I was initially reluctant, because I hadn’t sung sober, or in front of people other than my close friends, in a very long time. I was scared that I wouldn’t be up to it. I couldn’t read music. He helped me get over those fears, starting a long love affair with a gorgeous group of wonderful, likeminded people, many of whom I know will be my lifelong friends.

It's hard to describe how important Polyphony has become in my life, and the joy that singing with the choir brings me. It has given me purpose and community. I have been able to sing arrangements of songs by some of my favourite artists. That was part of the appeal of Polyphony to me in the early days, so much so that I privately railed against the inclusion of a Madonna song in our 2019 goth concert because I didn’t think she fit the theme. It’s only now that I have the courage to admit that it was me who made that comment that enraged you in the anonymous choir survey, Jack. I think you’d be able to laugh about it with me now, and hopefully forgive me.

I’ve learned over the years that singing only songs I knew and liked was boring and limiting. I learned to trust Jack’s brilliant vision, whatever it was, because he always knew what he was doing and found ways to make it work. I learned that you can find unexpected joy in songs you’ve never heard before, and that it’s usually easier to learn new pieces when you don’t already know the melody anyway. One of the best concerts we ever did wasn’t songs by indie/alternative artists – it was a classical opus, Gabriel Fauré’s Requiem, memorised and sung entirely in Latin at St Stephen’s church in Newtown in 2022. It was mind-blowing and so, so special.

Through Polyphony I’ve had the chance to perform in front of hundreds of people at incredible venues around Sydney. At Giant Dwarf, a warehouse in Waterloo, a living room in the graffitied Hibernian House apartment building in Surry Hills, a disused blacksmith workshop in Eveleigh, a former fire station in Petersham and most recently at our weekly rehearsal space and beloved spiritual home, Petersham Baptist Church. My first concert with Polyphony was actually at the Enmore Theatre if you can believe it, at a gig that Jack organised himself to fundraise for the Yes campaign in the marriage equality plebiscite. We sang Cloudbusting by Kate Bush alongside an all star cast of Australian indie music royalty. Like I said, “pinch me” moments.

If you’ve been to a Polyphony show, you will know that as good as we can sound, Jack was always the star of the show. It was always he who everyone would rave about after seeing us perform. I wish the audience could see what we saw when he conducted us – the fire in his eyes, the intensity, the knowing smiles and winks. His energy was electric, captivating, magnetic. He was our brilliant, charismatic, fearless leader and we would always follow him with unquestioning devotion and adoration.

Jack was an incredibly funny guy. There were so many bizarre, niche and hilarious long running in-jokes. He had so much energy, and a huge personality. He was wild and the life of the party. I once saw him run naked down Oxford Street on a night out, and dance naked by the campfire at choir camp at 2am. He was so generous. He was a great networker and enjoyed connecting people. He was also generous with his wallet, to a fault. He would always buy rounds of drinks for everyone (including me), even if it meant emptying his bank account. He would plead with me to stay out, even when it was well past my bedtime. He just wanted me and all of his friends to have a good time, and to keep the good times coming.

Over the years our friendship evolved. I settled down, got married, and gave up music journalism for a “real” job. Jack kept pursuing his musical dreams, alongside the struggles and hard and fast living that accompanied them. He had an at times hard life, and struggled with his mental health at various points over the years. He just wanted to find love and companionship. I wanted that desperately for him too, for him to be happy. He was loved by so many people, but just not in the way he needed. I wish I could have done more to help him.

I feel like I haven’t been in his inner circle for some time now, which pains me greatly to admit. I think he could see our paths diverging, which is why he got me to join Polyphony. It meant that even though we now had different kinds of lives we could still see each other for at least two hours every Wednesday evening for practice. Despite this gradual drifting, he still knew me better than many people and had a sixth sense for knowing if something was up, or if I needed to talk.

I am grieving the loss of such a cherished friend, and that our choir has lost its shining light. To me, the friendships I’ve made in Polyphony are Jack’s legacy and ongoing gift. I will keep singing and keep loving to honour his memory.

I’ve been writing this for hours and despite everything I’ve listed, it’s all just a drop in the ocean of what Jack meant to me. He was a superstar, he was so sweet, and I’m lucky to be able to say that he was one of my oldest and dearest friends. I think this hurts so much because the story of our friendship is the story of my life. He’s been there for so much of it, and I can’t bear to think what it will be like without him in it.

Jack, my beautiful friend. I have cried those tears. Many, many tears. I know there will be many more. I am shattered and absolutely devastated to lose you. Thank you for being my friend, for your unwavering love and support, for all the fun, laughter, joy and wild times you gifted me. The world isn’t as bright without you in it. I will love you and miss you forever.

- Josh x

7 October 2024