Frank Goes to the Great Gig in the Sky - A few words about my friend Martin Griffith.

The Mooseheads, Frank-A-Delics, and indeed all those who knew our great fellow Martin - are a little subdued for now.

Life will moose on, it must, of course, but last Thursday we lost a great man who was the creator, leader and inspirator of Frank-A-Delic, a wacky psychedelic funk band, cast in Martin’s own mould and infused with Moosehead mentality.

For those here who didn’t know our dear friend and fellow Moosehead, Martin (AKA Frank), I must write few words. It was Martin who invited me into Frank-A-Delic over thirteen years ago – over a beer (of course), he asked me what I could play; I said I could offer no skills as yet but that I’d buy a theremin as it was the weirdest instrument I could think of. I was in.

Frank was extremely encouraging and always supportive of my struggles with this strictly hands-off instrument. He’d often send me theremin tracks, ideas about add-ons and hacks, and always found places in our performances where he demanded a theremin solo with gusto. He cared that the theremin would be there, and wanted the instrument to shine, and had more faith than I that I could make it so.

We were (are) a large band, and live all over southern England. It wasn’t always easy to make the rehearsals near King’s Cross. One Saturday I awoke with an appalling hangover, and released that I’d never make the rehearsal on time, as it was a least ninety minutes’ drive away, if the traffic was favourable. It wasn’t, I was two hours late. As I entered the studio and set up, Frank immediately applauded my efforts and brought me into the current track under rehearsal – concerned that my journey not be wasted, indeed, he was concerned and looked out for us all, individually.

I was fortunate enough to be able to speak with Frank a few times recently. He welled up with compassion for all of us A-Delics, which we didn’t always appreciate at the time. He was probably the best leader I know, as he could target each of us with the right inspirational words, and made each of us feel part of something bigger than ourselves. He earned our respect, and we respected his guidance.

Frank has been, of course, a dedicated Moosehead since I’ve known him, which considerably pre-dates my time with Frank-A-Delic. Under Frank’s intuitive and moderative influence, the Moosehead theme was promulgated throughout our band’s performances; indeed, at the first Eight Bells Charity Gig (for us) - which was local to me near Oxford – we’d been erroneously listed on the blackboard as ‘The Mooseheads’ – which was then quickly amended to ‘Frank-A-delic’, for we had our distinctiveness; we were a gestalt, never a mere subset! We’d been offered a slot at midday for an hour. I noted to the organisers that the event didn’t start until two – ‘but you’ve got nothing to show us except some crap recordings’ they insisted. I pleaded, and we were given thirty minutes at 7pm instead. At that gig in June 2008, Frank’s patient guidance of us all paid off. The band came of age. A new identity blossomed. We were encored with whoops, whistles and cries, and threw the schedule into chaos as the audience wouldn’t let us leave the stage for more than an hour. Later we were formally announced as the best band of the gig, and offered free beer (which promptly ran out); we were invited back to headline the event in subsequent years. We regularly (read ‘annually’ - we were a big band, and took a lot of organizing) gigged in London and once in Brighton, we never made any money but had been nurtured and accompanied by Frank so as to offer our audience great music, garish costumes and wild stunts (note that each adjective is interchangeable!). Frank engaged the Moosehead cause – not to take anything too seriously, except beer and curry - with a thoughtful balance of incisive humour and fondness. He was much respected, he acted with moderation rather than debauchery, with empathy but with humorous criticism, and always with an unswerving moral compass.

We knew Frank was ill, but he was too modest to worry us with the magnitude of his illness. I don’t think any of his many friends realised how ill he was. His passing was fast and a great shock. I am sure he’s now in a great place, surely a place harmoniously infused with the creative, eclectic and Avant-garde music which was his sine qua non. And I’m sure he’s actively willing and encouraging each of us to follow our dreams as sensibly as we can.

My thoughts are with his beloved ladies – his wife Immacula and sixteen-year old daughter Hannah.

Rest in peace Martin – knowing your peace is music - chief A-Delic, Moosehead and true gentleman.