Category Archives: words

Becoming friends with Chris was one of the easiest and most natural things I’ve ever done. I met him at an ugly time in my life when I was resisting new relationships and self-isolating in order to deal with frailties and idiosyncrasies. He didn’t really give a shit that I was being such a reluctant grump. He was wonderful and generous to me in spite of it, without even trying. His presence made me feel so much better about myself.

I’ll never forget the first time I heard a song that Chris recorded called Benelux. I listened to it while on a train, leaving downtown Montreal, the glinting sun dulled by the window shades and the ones on my face, the city gradually frittering into farmland. Beneath my headphones, my mind was wrestling with some heavy emotions, but that song broke up the scuffle in no time. I thought of a microbial underwater orchestra, of alien machinery being unraveled in slo-mo, of wide open spaces and strange energies percolating. And then I stopped thinking altogether. Dumbstruck, I simply enjoyed the texture of that moment, inhaled its serendipitous beauty, and held it inside my body. I felt clarity, an undercurrent of solace, the tug of a halucyonic thread of life. I remembered to just be, and to appreciate everything I have.

I don’t know why or how Chris and I started using military ranks to address one another. But I do know that I’ll forever be saluting you, Commandant Reimer.

I have known Chris since I was 18, he would have been 21 then. When I first started writing music with my friends and playing shows in a band, it was always awkward and nerve wracking. It wasn’t until I saw Azeda Booth play that I realized how amazing a group of friends can really be. Chris was one of those amazing people. He was also an amazing mentor too. I always thought he was mysterious, with his blue eyes and insanely intuitive guitar playing… I couldn’t help but idolize him. Perhaps that was why it was difficult to speak to him when I lived in Calgary; still growing out of my awkward teenage years and my uncontrolled excitement for everything inspiring. My band would end up playing shows with WOMEN on my birthday two years in a row, and I remember it being some of the best shows we have ever played. I remember him telling me at one of those shows, how much he loved our music and to never stop doing what we do.

Perhaps at that point, I was able to see Chris on the same level. He was so humble and genuinely honest, that I couldn’t help but feel like he was shaking my hand. I no longer saw him as the brilliant musician but rather the beautiful person behind that musician.

We started to exchange e-mails, and I would continue to run into him in different cities across north america. He would still continue to give me advice, always masked by his wit and humor.

My condolences and love to you and your family.