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 tributary
by erik lars myers
 This is not an easy column to start. A thousand sentences have inhabited this space, but none of them were completely right; none of them have been able to convey the sense of loss and grief that they need to. There's simply nothing complex enough to elucidate it correctly.
Mark Lincoln Seiler, our beloved resident dj, ended his own life last week. It is a tragic loss for the world. Talent and creativity of his caliber should never cease so swiftly. Friends should never have to leave so soon.
I can't hope or claim to speak for all of us when there are so many here that were so close to him: roommates, bandmates, and friends. Please use this space to comment, and take this opportunity to remember Mark.
In addition, a space has been started in our gallery to host pictures of Mark. If you have any you'd like to contribute, please don't hesitate.
What follows is a piece from the Bangor Daily News in Maine where Mark spent the last few years of his life. It is clear that his talent was recognized and appreciated.
The sky is broken by Emily Burnham
reprinted with permission from the Bangor Daily News
Mark Seiler's record collection was legendary. You'd look at the stacks upon stacks of records squirreled away at his house - from obscure '80s punk tracks to random club remixes of Whitney Houston singles - and you knew this was a man with a passion. The kind of guy who would stay up for 24 hours straight to make sure he wouldn't lose an eBay auction on some sweet import vinyl. An obsessive collector. A true music hound. A DJ.
Mark Seiler, aka DJ Phonicoid, chose to take his life earlier this week in western Massachusetts. To those of us who knew the 28-year-old Bangor man, both as a friend and as a musician, there's a sense floating around of "what's going to happen now?" For the past six years, he had been an integral member of the Maine electronic music scene - on his own as a DJ at clubs and parties around the state and accompanying various bands with scratching and samples.
Mark was ubiquitous. You could find him anywhere. Offer him a gig, and he would probably take it. House parties, drag shows, punk shows, raves, clubs, sitting in on local radio shows. Give him a little notice, and possibly some gas money and pizza, and he'd lug his Vestax turntables and a crate of records to wherever he was needed. More recently, he'd been jamming with everyone from the now-defunct ska band Skawabunga to local funk-rock mainstay Plan B. He could find the right sample for just about any style of music. He spun mostly drum 'n' bass and house, but he loved everything - hip-hop, garage, jungle, happy hardcore, dub, punk, indie rock. Nothing was out of his reach.
Mark was an incredibly versatile musician. In addition to being a truly gifted scratch DJ, he could play almost any instrument you threw at him. He learned how to play trombone for the sole purpose of playing a ridiculous one-off gig with two friends in a joke band. He made a guitar out of a cookie tin and a bass out of PVC pipe. He was never creatively bored.
Last year he put out a record he had been working on for what seemed like ages - a scratch record of Beastie Boys remixes. He was immensely proud of it. He boasted, probably justifiably, that it was the most technically precise scratch record ever produced. And if there's one thing those who knew him never stopped hearing from him, even a year after it came out, was, "Want to buy my record?"
Mark had the largest collection of music and memorabilia from the musician Moby in the entire world. He really did - he even owned Moby's soul. He bought it off eBay. He kept it in his basement. I've seen it with my own eyes. He had so many things he'd collected over the years - records, videos, tapes, magazines, books, whatever - that if you even casually mentioned a particular musical or pop culture interest of yours, you might end up with a pile of related stuff that you never knew existed. He'd just give it to you. He was that kind of guy.
He had a sense of humor that was cute and random or, depending on when you caught him, cynical and sarcastic. He graduated this past May from the University of Maine with a degree in new media, primarily working in film and video. He had a limitless amount of potential that was only starting to manifest itself. It always seems to happen that way - the really great ones, the ones that shine a little brighter than the rest of us, get snuffed out before their time.
The people he touched, from local DJs to techno lovers to those who just knew him as a nice guy, know that the best way to remember him is through his music. Those who didn't know him can get a sense of who he was by simply going out some night and listening to a DJ and dancing until they can't dance anymore. In every beat that comes through the speakers - no matter where or what song is playing - there will be a little piece of Phonicoid echoing through the air.
Mark Seiler, DJ Phonicoid, had two Web sites: www.phonicoid.com and www.mobymusic.com. His scratch record can be purchased at all Bull Moose Music locations. Memorial services have not yet been planned. Emily Burnham can be reached at eburnham (at) bangordailynews.net.
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A memorial DJ bash has been scheduled for Sunday, Dec. 11 at 9:00 PM at Ushuaia at 103 Park Street in Orono, ME. More details forthcoming.
If anyone has any other information on services, or where we can send regrets, please let me know.
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