R.I.P Nick, I will never forget you.

On Friday 13th, my friend Nick was killed in the most inhumane act of violence. He was a victim of the ISIS terror attacks in Paris and was a merchandiser, like myself. Never did I ever think I would lose a friend to terrorism — you just don’t ever imagine it will directly affect someone you care so deeply about and I’m still desperately trying to wrap my head around it.

After merchandising in Edinburgh on Friday night for Newton Faulkner, I found out about the attacks via Facebook. Discovering through social media that gun-men had stormed the Bataclan Theatre, where Eagles of Death Metal were playing that night, the panic started to wash over me. I originally met Nick when he was working on a tour for that band and I hoped and prayed he wasn’t on another run with them. Checking his Facebook, it came to light that he was with them and nobody had heard from him. I began to desperately call his mobile. There’s something to be said about the shocking heaviness which engulfs your heart in a moment like that. I stayed awake for what seemed like an eternity, ringing him constantly, hoping he would finally answer and be so confused as to why I’d called him countless times. Hoping he’d answer with his cheeky English accent and ensure me that everyone was safe and well. My heart seemed to sink more and more at every minute that passed with no news and my mind wouldn’t stop racing. I kept thinking of the times I had completely underestimated how dangerous a touring life can be. We take unknown risks every day by just being in new cities, miles away from home and put our trust in strangers, expecting to return to our families. The thought that something as attrocious as this could possibly happen had never crossed my mind. Concert venues have always been what I considered as safe havens; a method of escapism and a way for music-lovers to lose themselves entirely. To forget about all of our problems, which at this point in time, seemed entirely trivial and non-existent.

At 8:00AM on Saturday morning, I received the news that Nick had been murdered. I couldn’t believe it. Words escaped me and I broke down in tears. It felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. Having the news confirmed to one of Nick’s friends by the tour manager and three members of the crew for EODM was absolutely heartbreaking. I spent the full weekend re-reading old texts and thinking of times I wished I had made more of an effort to tell him how great he was and how much he mattered. The person that I was proud to call my friend mattered, and what he was so passionate about mattered. To me, and to so many others whose life he had touched through multiple continents.

I thought of the first time we met. I introduced him to Slouch, a bar in Glasgow and we instantly hit it off. He was merching for Eagles of Death Metal and had a night off before hand. We went to see L7 at the Garage and he wouldn’t stop going on about how much he wanted a Munchie Box (a Glaswegian delicacy of all the worst foods tossed together — but he was so excited about it!) Anytime afterwards when he was in Glasgow, he would always get in touch to meet up for an obligatory pint (or ten)! I remember one night, he waited outside in the rain for me to finish work for about an hour so he could come to my mates flat party — hipflask at the ready, and yet despite the rain, his hair was still on top form. He took control of Spotify that night and I’ve honestly never seen anyone so excited to dance to Girls Aloud. One thing’s for sure — he could cut some fine shapes.

He was loved by people all over the world. I loved his leather jacket, the ironic band tshirts, the slick hair which was way better than mine, and the way he literally glided along floors. I never once saw him sad or angry — only a smile imprinted on his face and he gave the best hugs.

Since Saturday, I feel as though I am looking at everything with new eyes — as though I am seeing it for the first or last time. There is no end to the amount of words that could describe Nick. He was silly, loving, selfless, kind and everything I could ever aspire to be. I am proud of the man he was and how thrilled he was to be on the road. That, in itself, is a rare thing to see. Most of the time, I meet crew and band members who have become tired of being away from home. The novelty has long since lost its shine for them. Nick wasn’t like that, and maybe thats why we clicked instantly. We shared the adrenaline of it all and could talk for hours about our touring lives. He was so generous with his time and despite always being in different cities, you could count on him to visit friends, old and new, wherever he went.

Nick saw the beauty in everyone and everything and always made you feel like the most important person in the room. He was charming, witty and above all else, he was my friend and I could always rely on him to be at the other end of the phone anytime I needed to talk. Not often do you come across someone who has such a relaxed and approachable disposition and who truly was a breath of fresh air.

“Nick Alexander’s life and work is important to every person who has made music, every person who listens to music, and every person who has ever been inside a club or a concert hall and found themselves deep in the thrall of the experience of live music. By honoring his profession, I hope to do some honor to the man; and by honoring one man, I hope to shine some light on the idea that every victim (these names we may hear for a moment, the names we will never hear), touched a thousand and more lives.”

There is a memorial fund that has been set up for Nick’s family. The amount of people who have come together over the past couple of days to donate has been overwhelming and I can only ask that anyone reading this might find it in their hearts to contribute also.
https://www.gofundme.com/y7aaknp8

It has been over a week now and I am slowly beginning to accept the dreadfulness that happened in Paris. It isn’t something that gets any easier in time but we learn to cope.

Today was my first arena show taking care of merchandise for Faithless and Nick was the first person that I wanted to share the news with. I wished I could have phoned him to tell him, and I know he would have been so overjoyed to hear about it. He would have been the only person I respected enough to ask for any advice and I know he would have eased me of any worries I had. He had faith in me and I will forever wish that I could have shared my journey with him. Nick lived his life to the full and I am immensely grateful for the time I had with him. I will reiterate his beautiful sister’s words by saying “It was a waste of life… but it wasn’t a wasted life.”

I truly will miss him forever, and never will he ever be forgotten about. Not by me, and not by the world. R.I.P friend. ❤