Skye is gone.
Most people knew him as Skye.
Sometimes he called himself Ham Salad.
I met him at Jonestown Sound — an old Vancouver church that producer King Dave III turned into a recording studio.
The place still felt like a church.
High ceilings.
Long echoes.
Music hanging in the air.
The first time I saw Skye I couldn’t quite figure him out.
He was wearing a purple silk disco shirt and a cheap cowboy hat.
He looked a little high.
But when he started talking about music, everything changed.
He told me he was only into bebop until he heard Under the Bridge.
That was the moment it clicked for him.
Charlie Parker.
Stravinsky.
Kurt Cobain.
Different sounds.
Same source.
Skye believed all music came from the same mysterious place.
And once he discovered something about it, he couldn’t wait to share it.
Many musicians guard their knowledge like a secret language.
Skye did the opposite.
If he found a pattern, a theory, or a hidden connection, he told everyone.
Theory fascinated him.
He studied it deeply.
Talked about it endlessly.
Treated it with a kind of reverence.
Sometimes he joked about taking over the world.
But I don’t think he wanted that.
I think he just enjoyed making discoveries..
The next musical secret waiting around the corner.
One time the band Yes took over the studio for a while.
They sealed themselves inside the church to write.
Meanwhile Skye was out wandering the streets of downtown Vancouver, making friends with whoever crossed his path.
When he finally drifted back into the studio one day, he looked exhausted.
Slightly wrecked.
He didn’t notice the curious looks around him.
He picked up a classical guitar.
Then he played Charlie Parker’s Confirmation.
Note for note.
Clean.
Perfect.
Steve Howe was standing there watching.
That moment created a quiet respect between them.
Skye had that effect on people.
He could appear completely chaotic one minute…
…and then reveal a depth that stopped the room.
What I remember most about Skye, though, was something simpler.
If he thought you did something well, he told you.
No politics.
No hidden agenda.
Just honesty.
And when it came from him, it meant something.
So thank you, Skye.
For the music.
For the discoveries.
For the encouragement.
And for sharing what you find.
Wow, Bugnut, well written, well said! A wonderful blog taking us down memory lane… he was a unique being… keep blogging, telling everyone more… thanks for your words… ox’s all of us who lived with him at Sanctuary.
What a gift, I thank you. Through your generous words I have a deeper understanding of my son’s all consuming love of music.
EDDY I’m sorry you lost your friend. He sounds like a fantastic person and I’m so happy you two were such great friends. I’m sure Skye was just as appreciative of you and your talents as you are of his. Its so beautiful when two minds and souls can meet and merge like yours did. I would love to have someone remember me as fondly as you remember Skye. I bet he’s smiling in heaven… Pat
hey, thanks for this post… with getting to know a little more about one of my dear best friend’s son, skye…. do you think we’ll ever get to hear more of his music sometime?
Thanks for this tribute. I am friend of Skye’s mom and really appreciate your tribute.
Eddy, thanks for allowing me into your life and your friendship with Skye by posting this blog. It seems fairly obvious to me from your writing that he believed in you as much as you believe in him. I look forward to more blogs about him in the future. Not only are you sharing his life and talents with people, I am sure it is cathartic. Much love my friend.
Thank you very much for sharing his memory with us. I never did get a chance to meet him, but I have the pleasure of knowing his son, Daymian. Since I am musically inclined, I think I would have liked Skye very much. I would have enjoyed showing him the bits and pieces of music I have so far created but have never been able to finish. It would be interesting to listen to his thoughts and feedback. But what I would have loved to do most is sing with him or jam with him on one of the instruments I know how to play, and I would have loved to have been able to share this with Daymian. Thank you again.
“WOW Eddy, I’ve only recently come into your circle and I didn’t know Skye at all, but the way you talk about him makes me wish I did know him. I had a similar experience with the loss of Brian MacLeod. That was difficult for me and a lot of people I am sure. You’ve peaked my interest in several musical areas that you have blogged about with respect to Skye. It makes me want to talk to you about it more in person. Maybe when we finally get it together and schedule some time in your studio ~ we can take it from there.
I sense your passion and your love for music and the lessons learned through Skye. I too felt that way from Brian. You are truly a passion driven person like myself. Your words ring with clarity and meaning in all you write about. My heart feels your loss.
Your friend ~JD~”
I knew Skye when his eyes were sapphire blue — before they became green. His eyes were both amazing and amazed. That was long ago in a place across a stretch of the Salish Sea. I always hoped to meet the man the child I knew became. Maybe, some day, I will hear his music and think ‘aaah… that’s you!’ Skye, his mother and sister will always be dear to me.
I, too, am thankful to you for sharing this tribute. I never met him, but I wish I had. His mother is a dear friend of mine.
Thanks so much for noticing Skye’s Talent.He was also a great boxer,poet,and writer.I look forward to hearing more of his material, yet unreleased.Ham is sorely missed and i find myself still looking for him on Granville st.Thankyou.
Thank you for sharing and keeping my brother’s memory alive ❤️