Tribute to Dave Day by Gary Burger of The Monks

As you know, the greatest banjo player the world ever saw has passed onto the invisible choir and left a gaping chasm in the world of Garage Punk that will never be filled.

It's sad to see the back of one of musics true innovators... I mean... we've lost a Monk, but James Blunt still lives. Life is not fair. Anyway...

Dave Day, has left the building for good, and now, his bandmate, fellow sonic terrorist and, most importantly, friend, Gary Burger, singer of The Monks, pays tributes to one of the biggest characters in music.

Read over for Gary's full tribute.

The last time I saw the Banjo Boy Dave Day Havlicek that I knew and loved was in Gelnhausen, Germany in October, 2007. He and I, with our wives and Jamie Goodman (the Monk site webmaster) had traveled there together after the last Monk performance that he would ever do in Frankfurt's Mousonturm. Our Monk work was done. We had six beautiful, October days to spend irresponsibly. We had excitedly chosen to go to Gelnhausen because that was the location of our U.S. Army base in the 1960's. The army was gone but we were back. This town meant a lot to both of us. We met there. We started our musical journey together there. We became friends there.

We spent the week eating, drinking and being merry with German friends from the 1960s. It was a wonderful time to renew those old friendships. After a day or so, Dave had built a following of new and old fans. He found a particular gasthaus that he liked and he held court there on a nightly basis. There'd always be a guitar on hand and he would play and sing his favorite songs for hours at a time for adoring friends and fans with his sweet wife Irene by his side. Once I was asked to play a song or two. They didn't ask again, it was Dave they wanted to hear.  David sang his Elvis songs like Wooden Heart, Don't Be Cruel, Trouble, All Shook Up. You get the picture.

On our last night in Gelnhausen we partied hard in a small, out of the way bar. We piled 25 people into a place meant for 12 and of course there was a guitar on hand and Dave once again held center stage. The bar owner declared it to be a "private party" and locked the doors. You could get in if you knocked. It was a great time with laughter, old stories and old memories to tell of and treasure and of course the singing. This is the last time I saw the real Dave.. he was at his best and having a wonderful time. This is the way to remember him.

When we played music with the Torquays and then the Monks, he'd usually be placed on my left side onstage. It was comforting to me in the heat of the moments to look over at him and see how much fun he was having and how much he was giving the audience. It helped loosen me up and allowed me to give them more. Sometimes, if we were lucky it was like a disease with the band. When the moments came where I, Eddie, Larry, Roger, Adam, Mike or Len caught Dave's rockin' disease at the same time, nothing could stop the musical power. Dave was a central generator of the excitement.  There isn't any way to duplicate what he gave.

Dave was my friend. He could make me laugh. He could make me cry. He could get me excited. He could piss me off. Dave was my friend. I miss him. He's on my mind.

Gary Burger

(as told to Mof Gimmers)