Mars Williams Has Left the Stage

Fuck cancer

Mars Williams (photo: Peter Gannushkin)

We knew that Mars Williams was very sick. Fellow Chicago reedist Dave Rempis organized a fundraiser to help him cover the excessive costs of cancer treatment back in April, but I couldn’t help but feel a sense of hope when I saw that Mars had returned to the stage—the place he clearly felt most at home—this past summer, joining his bandmates in the Psychedelic Furs on the road. But then a friend told me that the treatments had actually been fruitless, so Williams decided he'd rather spend his final days blowing his horn rather than lying in bed. His fight ended last night at age 68, and despite accepting this foregone conclusion in recent months, the news still stings.

During my days immersed within and covering Chicago’s dynamic improvised music scene, Mars was one of the true constants. He was a crucial part of Hal Russell’s NRG Ensemble, a band that embodied and presaged so much of the scene’s future vitality. Regardless of how many people turned out for a show by the band, the whole group went for broke, playing with unalloyed passion, joy, and mayhem whether there were 100 listeners or just 10. Mars was a player. He loved to make music for people. He fed on audience energy, which is probably why he spent most of his career toggling between improvised music and rock. He was well-known for his work in the Psychedelic Furs, but along the way he was a key part of the Waitresses and the Swollen Monkeys. He flirted with mainstream success with his long-running “acid jazz” band Liquid Soul. Even if I didn’t care for that side of his music, I could never fault him for it. There was no missing his genuine, all-in enthusiasm, even when he looked to Stevie Ray Vaughan as his fashion icon.

My favorite part of Mars Williams was that unhinged yet focused intensity he brought to improvised music settings. His rapport with Russell remains seared into my memory, like two kids pushing each other onto greater and greater heights. He was part of many fiery, explosive bands—Peter Brötzmann Chicago Tentet, Witches & Devils, Boneshaker, Chicago Reed Quartet, Extraordinary Popular Delusions, Michael Zerang & the Blue Lights, Ken Vandermark’s Audio One, among others—and he always pushed himself to the brink on stage. He had his demons, and life on the road pushed him towards the tedious horrors of substance abuse, but once he really got clean he quietly devoted himself to helping others get straight. Mars never spoke about this advocacy, and I didn’t even know about it until jaimie branch cited his crucial support when she discussed her own problems with me when the first Fly or Die record dropped. One of my great thrills in Chicago was helping to organize a performance of The Hal Russell Story, a suite the titular legend recorded with the NRG Ensemble about his own life in music and released on ECM, but never got to perform in Chicago. Actor Michael Shannon took on Russell’s own cranky narration, and this excerpt confronts the same sort of demons Mars had already put to rest. Mars went above and beyond in making the concert happens, digging up rare photos of his old running buddy for the multi-media part of the show, and bringing his typical enthusiasm to every aspect of the project.

As an outgrowth of his band Witches & Devils, which formed as an Albert Ayler tribute homage, he eventually began organizing electrifying Christmas music concerts that brilliantly extended Ayler’s marriage of free jazz and gospel by melding holiday themes in the same way. Williams was an obstinate optimist and he organized a bunch of Ayler Xmas shows for this year despite his illness. Now I reckon any of them that go forward will serve more as memorial events than holiday celebrations, but if Mars had his way they would still be celebrations. Let’s raise a glass to the one of the best there ever was.