Bruce "Utah" Duncan Phillips (15 May 1935 - 23 May 2008), R.I.P.

I missed the news last week while I was away, but Utah Phillips is dead. From a letter written to friends shortly before his death:

“I spent a long time finding my way—couches, floors, big towns, small towns, marginal pay (folk wages). But I found that people seemed to like what I was doing. The folk music family took me in, carried me along, and taught me the value of song far beyond making a living. It taught me that I don't need wealth, I don't need power, and I don't need fame. What I need is friends, and that's what I found— everywhere—and not just among those on the stage, but among those in front of the stage as well. . . . The future? I don't know. But I have songs in a folder I've never paid attention to, and songs inside me waiting for me to bring them out. Through all of it, up and down, it's the song. It's always been the song.”

Go carefully, Utah. You lived well, may you have so much in the next life.