So many of us here know Raph because of his relationship with music, and the lives he touched through music. I want to talk a bit here about his life putting on shows as part of the DIY independent music scene in Scotland, as well as him being a fantastic musician in his own right.

I met Raph because of music. I was new to Edinburgh, saw that there was a “punk alldayer” near my student halls at Banshee Labyrinth, and met a very tall energetic friendly man at the door who later played in a band I liked as well. As an aside, I just re-checked the line-up while writing this, and there were 11 bands on the bill? 11 bands, Raph? Still I had a great time and went to another gig of his soon after - our friend Ross’s band Pianosa played it - where I met Raph again as well as his flatmates, who all became dear friends bonding over music.

Raph and I mainly found we loved singing together and any excuse to do some harmonies together - including the obnoxious choice of testing this during the odd Tesco visit, and one time when we got kicked out of a pub for doing too many loud and abrasive impersonations of Rancid singer Tim Armstrong. We first put that love into a briefly active keyboard-guitar punk covers act called the Raphtastic Dashmundo experience (no recordings under this name thankfully), later into Unbegun, but also just all the life things we did together.

I want to first talk a bit about Raph’s passion for punk music, and putting on DIY punk gigs as Walk The Plank promotions. That 11-band gig I met him at was “Walk The Plank Fest 3” at a venue that holds 80 people. Being a DIY gig promoter is - for people not familiar - an utterly thankless task done by someone who has to have incredible resilience in the face of constant disappointment, rejection and anxiety. There is no money to be made. There is a lot of walking around in the cold putting posters up with freezing hands, a lot of anxious waiting around for people to turn up, a lot of stress counting attendees and working out if you’ll have enough to pay the bands. It is a sacrifice that hits deeply personally when it goes poorly. So why do it at all?

It makes perfect sense that Raph did this, because Raph loved being able to help. He did it, I think, from an intrinsic need to help make the world a better place in whatever small way he was able, and one of the ways Raph understood to do that was through this community he found a home with. In this case, it meant taking on a deeply important thankless task - and being just about reliable, confident and organised enough to do it! - just so that we could all see music we liked. So that new bands, or old friends trying something different, got a start from someone who believed in them. So that travelling bands had a reliable “good time” show up here they could trust. So that people like all of us were just able to indulge in the collective joy of singing along to something they didn’t expect to. I still remember giving my ticket to see The World Inferno/Friendship Society to a friend of mine I worked with cause I couldn’t make it - and he met his future wife at that gig! That’s what Raph the Gig Promoter enabled - those collective memories and friends we made.

Raph also took his “power” as a DIY gig promoter very seriously. DIY scenes are, in their own way, insular and conservative places sometimes - with their own often hushed or dismissed problems with misogyny, homophobia, and racism. But Raph critically engaged with feminist, queer and antiracist voices, and always put that lens on how he saw DIY gigs. He helped make the DIY music scene a far more inclusive place with the decisions he made. As basic a start as it is, he refused to put on a lineup that was only cis men, which was a big decision to take at the time. He wanted accessibility, so he put on gigs in different places - community centres sometimes deeply unsuited to heavy music, people’s flats where we clicked for applause, anything that meant a few different people would find it easier to come. He always made sure to give new artists a chance - so many have him to thank for their first gig in Scotland, and probably their most fun. He did his best for everyone to feel safe, welcomed, not turned away for a lack of funds, and to find a home if you will.

With that, he’s left a lasting impact on what’s acceptable in our spaces, and helped bring in so many people who would have felt on the outside without him. He took it on himself to ensure everyone could trust a “Raph gig” - he was worthy of that trust and he never took it lightly.

I also want to touch on Raph the musician. Raph’s sister told me recently he skipped out on studying for his high school exams to play his first gig, much to his parents’ annoyance, but I’m really glad he did because everyone was lucky to get every chance to hear Raph play. He was everything - a classically trained pianist and clarinet player, a drummer, a bassist if needed, a really talented guitarist, and god he had that wonderful voice - to the point at which I cannot listen to Springsteen anymore because quite frankly I prefer Raph’s voice singing those songs.

Raph’s stream from Lockdown: From Bach To Bruce

What Raph really loved was to play music with other people. He had his punk adventures early with his Edelweiss Pirates days. He found his voice with the Staygones, developed it all so much more with his solo project Turtle Lamone, wrote some amazing songs as Unbegun, but also so many more projects I can’t cover in time - including klezmer with his friends in Och Vey. He just loved collaborating and joining in with everything and everyone - there’s a bit of Raph in so many recordings because everyone knew how fun he was to play with. As a part of remembering him over the past few weeks, there have been so many people sharing small videos and pieces of art that Raph was a part of - as a background dancer, another voice, another guitar. A bit of Raph improved everything, and he took so much joy in it.

He was also a wonderful songwriter, always challenging himself to try and write difficult but beautiful songs. One of my last bits of song recordings from Raph - since we often sent each other “works in progress” - was this flurry of 10 messages and voicenotes from over an hour, of him working on a song in some silly complicated time signature where you hear him go from working on a kernel of an idea - a simple guitar riff - all the way to a fully developed two minute song. It’s a perfect set of snapshots listening to him write something beautiful so quickly, and also so difficult to do.

What always struck me is the beauty, care and politics he put into his words - songs about mutual aid, about the gay footballer Justin Fashanu’s tragic life, about our political hellscapes, and maybe one of my favorite lovesongs in “Follow The Plough”, about his love for his partner Robin amidst his own anxieties. These were often difficult and nuanced subjects that he always just found exactly the right words for - sometimes taking him years, sometimes fully formed, but always poignant. I will also deeply miss his ability to turn a simple chord into so much more with the voicings he’d try, and the many hunts for lost guitar capos when he invariably forgot one.

Link to Raph’s music

So I guess finally, I’m thankful we have records of his music to go back to and enjoy together. It is one part of being around Raph that we can hear again. I’m glad there are records where we all get to hear him sing still. I miss trying those obnoxious harmonies in Tesco aisles and pubs that I would only try with him, I miss hearing his voice crack when he goes high, but I’m forever thankful that we - as friends, old bandmates, fellow punks, family - have so many records of his voice to go back to and share.

Even if he sometimes downplayed it, I take comfort in knowing that Raph did realise just how many connections he had, and how he positively impacted so many lives through just being a wonderful person who happened to be a really talented musician and a committed promoter. Another of Raph’s big lyrical themes was about “home”, finding home or building home, and he built that with anyone who knew him, played with him, simply been to a gig of his, stayed at his house after he put a gig on for them, met him at a punk festival once, whatever the connection. I hope he also knew that so many of those people that he had played music with and built “home” with - would do anything for Raph, because you knew that was what he would do for you. For Raph, anything. So here’s to Raph, here’s to the wonderful lives he helped create and change, and here’s to still being able to listen to him sing. I miss you so much, you mattered so much to so many, and you helped change us all.