It is with a hurting grief in my heart and a
pain in my soul that I share the news of Roland Keijser's passing.
The loss is unmeasurable on so many levels I hardly know where to
begin. Maybe by saying what everybody who ever heard him play already
know: He was a true master musician. One of those who could make me
pick up an album if his name was in the credits. Because he always
played the truth. The instrument – no matter if it was the
saxophone or if it was a flute from faraway lands – was always an
extension of himself. He played like a spiritually enlighted
philosopher, phrasing his knowledge of man and music with the
immediacy of genuine honesty. He was always on a different level than
everyone else. He played like Roland Keijser, and Roland Keijser
only. He was a meaningful Musician, always demonstrating the
innermost comprehension of Music.
He was also my friend. No, we never met
in real life, but we exchanged a vast number of messages and letters
over the years. Our Facebook conversations were often long and
sometimes intimate, almost in a hushed way. We didn't so much write
as we spoke to each other, even if the voices we used were
those of the written word. Sometimes we quarrelled – I'm an
outspoken person and so was Roland. I wasn't afraid of telling him
straight when I thought he was completely off on some topic, and he
wasn't afraid to tell me if I have crossed the line of civility.
Friends can do that and still be friends when there's a sincere, mutual respect.
But most of the time, we had similar
ideas and during our extensive conversations, we touched on a wide
array of topics. Even when agreeing with each other, we could make
the other person consider other possibilities, calibrating our
opinions, shifting our perspectives. Talking to him about Blå Tåget
and Arbete & Fritid often generated a tsunami of memories,
opinions, historical facts that was impossible to find anywhere else.
He narrated his own past, and I eagerly sucked up every drop of
information he humbly provided me with.
And he never gave up. During his last
months, he battled the big C, but he kept on working. He told me he
was busy making new music, and just before his passing, he uploaded a
set of brand new recordings to Youtube. A farewell gift to his fans
and friends? Probably. He stoically faced his fate, he knew he
wasn't able to fool the grim reaper. But he died so fully living that
the circumstances allowed him to. He never stopped being a Musician.
The full Keijser discography is voluminous; the Arbete & Fritid
and Blå Tåget albums are just a little part of something much, much
bigger. It's always an interesting listen, often illuminating, never
irrelevant.
But it was Arbete & Fritid that
introduced me to his music. That particular band was instrumental (no
pun intended) in igniting my interest in progg. If you will, Roland
Keijser was crucial to the birth of this blog. Without him, this
would likely never have happened. His music so often revealed the
invisible to me. And I can't stop listening. Arbete & Fritid's
first album still moves me in a way few other albums do. It phrases
things that the spoken or written language can't fathom. His music,
old and new, is indestructible. Resistant to time. It's music that
channels the eternity while being an indisposable part of it. Thus,
it will never be forgotten, Neither will its creator.
May you rest in peaceful spheres,
Roland, and from deep within my heart, thanks for everything you've done for me!
