BEN KOLARCIK
15K posts

BEN KOLARCIK
@BENKOLARCIK
Look at the world. Describe what you see. Write it down to a new melody.


21 years ago, one of the best friends I ever had was lost at sea. Aaron Marrs and I played music together, saw a million shows, slept on each other's couches, did dozens of road trips, one time shared a tent that was barely big enough for one of us, served on a church planting team together, ate burritos after hardcore shows at 2 am, got into all kinds of trouble and did all manner of stupid things as teenagers. One day, Toby Mac saw a flier Aaron had created for a local show and hired him away to Gotee Records and Nashville. He became one of their house designers and designed some iconic album covers. He was one of the most talented artists I've ever known. And like every artist, he was a mix of wonder and chaos. There's an amazing story to be told about the night he and two girls were held for hours at gunpoint. As I understand it, Aaron put his life on the line for him. It also caused him financial ruin. Later, he started directing music videos. Then he got the idea to make a documentary about crab fishing in Alaska — this was before "Deadliest Catch". He raised some money, gathered a crew of misfits, and went up and shot the film. By the time he was done, he was out of money and needed money to edit the film. A captain who loved him (everyone who knew Aaron would say he was among the best friends they ever had) offered him a spot on the crew for the January crab harvest. Aaron had gone out enough to know how these things worked. And he could make a lot of money, and finish the film. The Captain overloaded the boat with crab pots, and on the first night at sea, the boat capsized. All the crew members but one died in the frigid Alaskan waters. The one who survived was an older veteran of the industry who slept in a survival suit. Aaron's body was never found. While he was making the documentary, he heard stories about Chinese pirate vessels that would roll up on Alaskan vessels and steal their pots. For a long time, we would joke about how maybe, just maybe, one of those vessels found him and rescued him, and he'd show up in Louisville again with a peg leg or an eye patch with a story to tell. Because that's the sort of thing Aaron would do. More than a thousand people came to his funeral. He was so beloved. In 2019, I was in Singapore at Lau Pa Sat. I was there recording interviews for an NGO that was having a conference, and one night I went to this famous street market to experience it. As I ate, I heard a laugh... I could have sworn it was Aaron's laugh, one I hadn't heard in 14 years. It was such a visceral sensory experience I leapt up from my bench. I thought about the pirates. I wondered... was it possible? Was there any way he's here? I abandoned my food and began walking in the direction of the sound. I looked and looked. And of course, he wasn't there. Then I felt foolish, and wandered back to my seat, where I'd not only abandoned my food, but a bag with my very expensive camera and a microphone in it. I got there, and a very sweet Singaporean woman had my bag in her lap. She was keeping it for me. I could tell a thousand Aaron Marrs stories, but I'll stop there. I am still haunted by his absence. I miss his laughing. I miss his emotional outbursts and tears. I miss the dumb things he would talk me into doing. I miss making music with him. Most of all I just miss his presence. But thanks be to God, I know I'll see him again. #HoldFast


















