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While visiting our favorite haunts, there’s that friend who would stop us in our tracks — someone we haven’t seen in more than a year, miss dearly and would be overjoyed to see again. Paul Moroz, for me, is/was that person, but I never got to give him that hearty long-anticipated, final embrace. On Sept. 10, Paul died of a heart attack, found in his longtime Hyde Park attic apartment by the Crosstown Expressway.
Born Jan. 6, 1961, Paul drummed for two of Tampa’s greatest and longest running bands, Pagan Saints and Pink Lincolns, and in the past decade, the shorter-lived but accomplished Brahm Bones. “We’re definitely on some freaky edge of Americana,” Paul said of Brahm Bones during our last interview; an apt sentiment considering that Paul was a connoisseur of eccentricity.
Paul’s infectious enthusiasm endeared him to many. He willingly and eagerly engaged in conversations and really listened. I always admired Paul’s gift for gab, and perhaps, most of all, his maniacally precise musicianship. Less cynical and aloof than many other rockers in the scene, Paul greeted friends with an immediate warmth and kindness that didn’t contradict his eloquence. He could match wits with the best of them, armed at the ready with an obscure Simpsons reference or a textbook-like narrative on a period in British Invasion history.
Great memories of the affable drummer will draw loved ones from near and far to the Paul Moroz Memorial this Sunday. Pay your respect with friends and local musicians Mathew Halpern, Crash Mitchell, Will Quinlan and Robert Wegmann, and Brahm Bones, which perform and provide tributes in Paul’s honor.
Details: Paul Moroz Memorial, Sun., Sept. 28, 3-6 p.m., New World Brewery, Ybor City. For updates on the memorial and to see who’s attending, visit the Paul Moroz Tribute event page on Facebook.
Epilogue: Local singer-songwriter Will Quinlan shared some touching words about Paul after our story went to print. Here's what he had to say:
Paul was my best friend and musical brother. Through 10 years of rotating members, he, far more than I, was the glue that held our band (Pagan Saints) together. Then it crumbled under the weight of my indecision and lack of wisdom, and the dark regrets began to set in as we drifted apart.
So many regrets. I am ashamed that I let one of the best people I've ever known drift away. Knowing that I didn't fight for that friendship, that smile, that surpassingly kind spirit, and that now I'll never be able to ... has crushed me. He was a far better person that I'm afraid I will ever be. I shared all this with a friend recently who told me - he wouldn't want you to carry that burden, and regardless of his own, If he could appear on a barstool beside you, he would smile and say something gracious and understanding, and then do his bloody damnedest to make you laugh. That was Paul...and I fucking miss him.
Clik here to view.
While visiting our favorite haunts, there’s that friend who would stop us in our tracks — someone we haven’t seen in more than a year, miss dearly and would be overjoyed to see again. Paul Moroz, for me, is/was that person, but I never got to give him that hearty long-anticipated, final embrace. On Sept. 10, Paul died of a heart attack, found in his longtime Hyde Park attic apartment by the Crosstown Expressway.
Born Jan. 6, 1961, Paul drummed for two of Tampa’s greatest and longest running bands, Pagan Saints and Pink Lincolns, and in the past decade, the shorter-lived but accomplished Brahm Bones. “We’re definitely on some freaky edge of Americana,” Paul said of Brahm Bones during our last interview; an apt sentiment considering that Paul was a connoisseur of eccentricity.
Paul’s infectious enthusiasm endeared him to many. He willingly and eagerly engaged in conversations and really listened. I always admired Paul’s gift for gab, and perhaps, most of all, his maniacally precise musicianship. Less cynical and aloof than many other rockers in the scene, Paul greeted friends with an immediate warmth and kindness that didn’t contradict his eloquence. He could match wits with the best of them, armed at the ready with an obscure Simpsons reference or a textbook-like narrative on a period in British Invasion history.
Great memories of the affable drummer will draw loved ones from near and far to the Paul Moroz Memorial this Sunday. Pay your respect with friends and local musicians Mathew Halpern, Crash Mitchell, Will Quinlan and Robert Wegmann, and Brahm Bones, which perform and provide tributes in Paul’s honor.
Details: Paul Moroz Memorial, Sun., Sept. 28, 3-6 p.m., New World Brewery, Ybor City. For updates on the memorial and to see who’s attending, visit the Paul Moroz Tribute event page on Facebook.
Epilogue: Local singer-songwriter Will Quinlan shared some touching words about Paul after our story went to print. Here's what he had to say:
Paul was my best friend and musical brother. Through 10 years of rotating members, he, far more than I, was the glue that held our band (Pagan Saints) together. Then it crumbled under the weight of my indecision and lack of wisdom, and the dark regrets began to set in as we drifted apart.
So many regrets. I am ashamed that I let one of the best people I've ever known drift away. Knowing that I didn't fight for that friendship, that smile, that surpassingly kind spirit, and that now I'll never be able to ... has crushed me. He was a far better person that I'm afraid I will ever be. I shared all this with a friend recently who told me - he wouldn't want you to carry that burden, and regardless of his own, If he could appear on a barstool beside you, he would smile and say something gracious and understanding, and then do his bloody damnedest to make you laugh. That was Paul...and I fucking miss him.
