NEEL ADHIKARI
I woke up to the devastating news that my friend Stu was no more. I have spent some of the happiest moments of my life with this gentleman.
Stuart was generally a quiet man who could crack up the whole room with a single comment. Unexpected, hilarious, unassuming and warm, he had a talent of making everyone comfortable, whether it was on stage, the audience, just friends in a room or even a stiff dinner. There’s something comforting about being around a nice person, I guess. The other amazing thing was that he’d do it without attracting an iota of attention to himself. But you don’t fool us friend. Everyone noticed you, everywhere and showered you with love all through your glorious life.
Stuart and I first played together in the Saturday Night Blues Band while I guested with them. We then went on to form a band that has played Thursday night in Someplace Else for around 16 years. Tajdar Junaid, Raja Narayan Deb, Stuart Munro, Chirodeep Lahiri and I formed Span. We wrote many songs together and while we were like a family, it was Stuart that made it feel like one. We all left at different points but Stu stuck on and kept it going.
He was very creative, very naturally musical, a truly gifted bassist and a stunning singer. I envied him because he carried his talent so lightly. He made music seem very easy. Even his hands were shaped in a way that they were made for playing bass. But when he occasionally strummed an acoustic guitar it was just beautiful in a way that can’t be articulated. (I see all my musician friends nodding on this one if they’re reading this).
He was a songwriter without the airs of being one. We wrote a few hilarious songs which would drive the crowd wild at our gigs. The Swiss Knife, Does Your Mother Know, Dingleberry Juice and the old English traditional bar song I Wish I Was Single Again would peel off the inhibitions in the audience, and inevitably the party would reach the next level. Those gigs were legendary. Because Stuart made them so. Even his on-stage banter would sometimes bring everything to halt, while people had to recover from aching bellies of laughter. LOL was a real phenomenon those days.
The world will miss you my friend. I’ll miss the quiet moments of doubt, where you’d reassure me that it would all be okay, while we walked on Park Street after a gig. Stuart, you lived well. Like a king. Every house you ever went to welcomed you like it was your own.
This next journey will be the same.
See you at the top of the road ya bugga.
ARUNIMA DASGUPTA
The original Hoochie Coochie Man! That’s what Stuie was. The legit “son-of-a-gun” gentleman. I remember him getting off stage in the middle of a song to tackle a man who was manhandling me.
Memories keep flooding in. More than two decades of memories. Where do I begin?
Let’s start at the very beginning where Jayanta told me to ‘beware’ of Stuie when I first met him at Someplace Else. In retrospect I realise it was simply because he was scared of Stuie’s charm and that I may fall for him. And man was he charming.
I never did though — but I loved him nonetheless. I was ‘Queen B’ in the band and he was the ‘Undertaker’ — phrases we coined out of songs we were playing — names that stuck beyond the two decades of gigging together every weekend as part of The Saturday Night Blues Band.
Every gig I ever played with Stuie, I would take my cues from his bass guitar — he was always rock solid. No matter how many wrong chords the band played, Stuie always tethered us — we could always count on him.
And of course, he had this propensity for making up improvised lyrics on the spot! When I wasn’t mouthing the right ones to him, he sang the wrong ones with so much confidence it was impossible for the audience to tell the difference — “If you wanna get laid you better get a babe, Cocaine!!”
Stuie wasn’t just a bass player, he was an institution of musicality. His finger style on an acoustic would put most guitar players to shame. And that acoustic guitar would be out at every band party... Stuie leading the way with his unending repertoire of songs — naughty and otherwise. Truly he was the life of the party!
I cannot mourn you my friend because you were never about that. I will continue to celebrate you — that’s who you were, that’s how you lived your life and that is what you brought to every life that you touched — lots of love and lots of laughter.
Thank you for always dancing with me when no one else would.
TAJDAR JUNAID
How do I describe my sweet friend Stu is a question I’m thinking about on my flight from Bombay to Kolkata to bid him a final goodbye.
He was a funny and sensitive friend. He ensured people around him were always in good spirits. Cracking them up with his stories.
We played in a band called Span for five years. A rock solid bassist who was also one of the most fantastic singers I knew.
I reached out to him when I got a job as a music teacher to teach young kids at a school. He was already teaching music at a school and he knew his way of getting across to inattentive kids with his rhymes and funny songs. He patiently taught me all those songs over several cups of tea and that helped me seal my first day at my new job.
Stu also played on my album What Colour Is Your Raindrop. His magic added life to my songs and I’ll forever cherish that.
He was a good friend who was always beside you in times of need. Stu donated blood for my father during his heart operation.
A large-hearted sweet and caring friend is how I’m going to remember the legend, Mr Munro.