Remembrances
News reached me this evening of the sudden passing of pianist Adam Marks, a giant in New York new music circles and one of America’s great young keyboard artists. He was also a mensch, one of the sweetest personalities I’ve been gifted to know, and in the late 1990s, my piano student.
It was not so long ago that I drilled young Adam on his scales and arpeggios, all the while he was excitedly showing me complex scores of John Adams and George Crumb that he was salivating to play. He did all of that and much, much more — just look at his beautiful website, AdamMarks.com. This was a musician of titanic appetite and accomplishment.
In his 42 years, Adam attained far more than many twice his age, but that fact hardly ameliorates the shock of his untimely passing. I always called Adam my “BabyBoy” because of his chubby cheeks and adorable lips, and he called me his “Auntie.” Affectionately he will remain in my memory always, a bright and vivid youth enraptured by the fascinations of the musical future and fully in charge of its manifold possibilities.
Sara Davis Buechner, May 10, 2021
It took a while before I was able to bring myself to update my many website pages which feature Adam Marks’s beautiful solo album ARCANA. Typing the tragic news of his sudden passing on May 9th at age 42 was painful and surreal. Two days earlier, he and I had been confirming the schedule for a concerto for him for 2023. He was planning to coming out and stay with me and Dan a bit this summer while we worked through passages. He was looking forward to seeing an island sunset like the one you see above. I took it the evening after his funeral, shouting to no one as I wept and raised my lens, that the sky was ablaze with Adam’s incredible energy.
The social media flood of grieving, loving messages from friends and colleagues about Adam was simultaneously gut-wrenching and heart- warming. This gifted man meaningfully touched the lives of an enormous number of people. It was remarkable seeing a portrait of an exquisite, kind human being, painted by so many in so many identically glowing colors. Stunning, too, was reading about the number of Adam’s active projects with different collaborators in different planning stages. The world has been cheated of many more decades of Adam’s goodness, virtuosity, and utter enthusiasm; I can only find solace knowing how excited he was about it all: about things beginning to open up after such a scary hiatus, and about all the upcoming opportunities, and joy. All the joy.
The term “may his memory be for a blessing” could not be more apt in Adam’s case: he will continue on through all of us whose lives were improved and brightened by knowing him. I am so deeply fortunate to have known him for twelve years, and to have had the chance to work closely with him on the 8 recordings that make up ARCANA– pieces which he interpreted as profoundly as if he had composed them. The album was released in late August 2020 in the middle of lockdown, and Adam never got the chance to tour with it. He never got the chance to read the latest beautiful reviews about his stunning performance that were posted the very week of his passing. How lucky I am that he asked his friend Luis to join him over at Yamaha one day to create a video of the piece of mine he performed the most over the years, SPARK. I invite you to remember Adam’s passion and talent by watching it: https://youtu.be/ FOQ4rcwsl2w
Too ironically, SPARK is a spirited elegy composed in loving memory of another keyboard player who passed away in the prime of her life, named Mara. When I described her to Adam, we agreed that had they met, he would have truly connected with her. As the gentleman who commissioned the piece touchingly wrote me in response to learning of Adam’s passing, “Maybe Adam just wanted to perform SPARK for Mara up close and personal.” A sweet image, indeed.
My heart goes out to Adam’s husband Gabe, his brother and my friend Craig, and their parents. Adam’s spark will burn brightly for as long as those of us who loved him are here, and he will be in my thoughts during many, many more vivid sunsets.
– Alex Shapiro May 22, 2021
My brain is in a fog. I am shocked to hear that Adam Marks, my friend and colleague of two decades, has passed away. We met as students at MSM. He was integral in the launch of the Lives of the Piano series–for many years he generously performed in nearly every concert. He was open to learning and to performing any repertoire we needed, no matter how difficult or absurd, and always did it with 300% dedication and enthusiasm. He was one of the most adventurous, open-minded, and hard-working musicians I’ve ever known. I think everyone who knew him knows what I’m talking about. He was my only friend who was open to meeting at 7:30am for coffee or 8am for rehearsals because he liked to practice in the mornings. I will miss his huge laugh, his friendship, and his inspiring passion for life and music. I feel lucky to have known him, but today I am sad.
Thank you to everyone’s kind words, both those who knew Adam and those who didn’t. I wasn’t among Adam’s closest friends, and don’t purport to have known him better than many other of his friends who have posted moving tributes. But he was a vital part of our small, tightly knit piano fam. I deeply respected his energy and complete dedication to music. I took for granted that we all would continue to support and to learn from each other until old age. That is what makes me sad.
– Lisa Yui, May 11, 2021
I met Adam during his first semester at Brandeis, in the fall of 1996. I was a sophomore choreographing the musical theatre club’s upcoming production of Pippin. He was eager to know if there would be tap dancing. I said I was pretty sure there wouldn’t be, but he should still audition. Many years later, Adam confessed he found me intimidating during that initial meeting, which amuses me because a) I am always more scared of everyone than they are of me, b) I was wearing rainbow leg warmers that day, c) he quickly proved himself to be the superior dancer, and d) we all know now that those rainbow leg warmers were on the wrong ankles.
Rachel J. Peters, May 18, 2021
Adam and I continued to collaborate in various artistic capacities for the next nearly 25 years. In addition to sharing the stage as dancers, we studied art song repertoire together, everything from Schubert to Argento. While I navigated my own local gigs–both onstage and in many a pit which truly earned its name–Adam displayed astounding levels of fearlessness, passion, and precision performing all over the country. Later, once I had dedicated myself more exclusively to composing, he was the first person to hear a song I’d just written. He laughed so hard at my use of the word “verstunkene” in the lyrics that he fell off the couch in the practice room. That was the clearest indication yet that I had finally made the correct career choice, and Adam stayed with me on that trajectory all the way. He was the musical engine behind several of my proudest achievements. As of last week, we were still working on two new projects together. I will find a way to do it all without him, but I wish I didn’t have to.
Every step toward the realization of a piece of music is an act of faith: grueling solitary days of practicing or composing; struggling together in rehearsal to reach breakthroughs; eventually heading to the concert hall, surrendering to whatever may happen after so much preparation. These are all components of the same affirmation: “I believe that what we can do together has meaning.” People in our line of work have this annoying way of rhapsodizing about our unique ability to reveal and heighten the overall quotient of unspeakable beauty in the world. Perhaps that’s true sometimes, but we are also capable of revealing what is unpleasant, uncomfortable, messy, and even dangerous. Whatever the result, it is always a living document of the fullness or our humanity. Adam was massively overqualified for all of it; he showed up to perform acts of faith and compassion and grace over and over again for decades, enriching our lives in countless ways in that process. Just this morning I remembered that I’m waiting to hear about a possible commission for which Adam wrote my letter of recommendation. His own generosity has already outlived him.
When the news of Adam’s death hit social media, the common refrain was “I have no words.” Now, I’ve just said a lot of words adding up to more of a dry catalogue than a textured portrait capturing my years enjoying Adam’s all-too-rare unconditional love and support. So yes, I agree: words are simply inadequate. (That’s why we have music, right?) But yesterday I did learn one word that may help us: familect. It’s a linguistic term encompassing, to quote Anne Helen Petersen, “shorthands and word substitutions overlaid with weird jokes, lingual play, and absurdity…undergirded by hours and months and years and decades of time spent in each other’s company. In other words: the language of actual intimacy.” If I say to you, “Abra-ca- thumbra” or “The Entenmann’s Sonata” or “Warsh Me,” you would probably not care. But Adam and I would hoot and holler over these phrases’ personal significance to us. I’m sure he has similar inside lexicons with everyone here today. So you see, we actually do have plenty of words. We all have parts of the Adam Marks Familect within us. Today, the Anne Carson Bot Twitter account blessed my feed with this gift: “Language is what eases the pain of living with other people, language is what makes the wounds come open again.” Thanks to the Adam Marks Familect, I’m feeling both acutely right now.
Infinite Jest, the novel by David Foster Wallace, is over a thousand pages long with labyrinthine footnotes at the bottom of every page. Adam and I read it at the same time–a little light extracurricular diversion. The year after Pippin at Brandeis, we staged a presentation of our choreography independent study projects. We incorporated texts between our dances. One of the readings in my half was taken from a section of Infinite Jest. I understand it viscerally now in a way that I couldn’t then. If you still have a hard time finding words, look no further. Don’t worry, I’ve cut it way down:
“…You will acquire many exotic new facts.
That no matter how smart you thought you were, you are actually way less smart than that.
That you do not have to like a person in order to learn from him/her/it.
That you will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realize how seldom they do.
That there is such a thing as raw, unalloyed, agendaless kindness.
That it is simply more pleasant to be happy than to be pissed off.
That it takes great personal courage to let yourself appear weak.
That no single, individual moment is in and of itself unendurable.
That there might not be angels, but there are people who might as well be angels.
That G-d, unless you’re Charlton Heston, or unhinged, or both—speaks and acts entirely through the vehicle of human beings.”
We love you, Adam.
[i am] heartbroken by the loss of one of my best friends, adam marks. he was my go-to for everything — play-throughs, counseling, beach trips, nature walks, concertgoing, last minute hangs, program collaborations. he was an impossibly genuine and kind person, an incredible musician and selfless advocate, and the most generous, graceful friend anyone could ask for. we saw each other last monday for a nighttime walk through central park, sitting at bethesda fountain as a dance class took place to the left and a guitarist played in the underpass before us. we agreed that it was perfect. we got some chinese food but were still hungry, so then went to gray’s papaya, standing outside in the rain. he took a bite, smiled at me and said: “wow that is a terrible hot dog… and i love it.” we walked to columbus circle and i’m grateful that when we hugged goodnight i said i loved him. on saturday he reached out, completely unprovoked, to check in on me—it’s been a tough couple of weeks, and that’s just his way. that was our last exchange. the memories—a lot of memories—and tears will keep coming. i’ve never lost so close a friend. love you, Adam.
Adam Tendler, May 2021
Just over a week ago, Adam, Amy, Michelle, (my) Adam, and I belly laughed for hours over dinner and wine in the backyard. That he is gone is utterly incomprehensible and the biggest punch to the gut.
We became good friends when he visited me in the hospital, having just moved to NYC. I joked that it was up to him, since I was captive audience, but it wasn’t lost on me that he showed up at a time when it would have been easier not to. He cooked me my first real meal six months after my transplant. He was there for so many important moments, always present and real and thoughtful. He was hilarious, wildly inappropriate, incredibly talented, humble, kind to everyone, and the type of friend and person we all strive to be.The fact that any of this is in the past tense is still so impossible to believe and profoundly unfair. But here’s what I learned from him: Show up. Watch out for others. Do the things that make you the happiest. Be authentic. Hug tightly. Laugh hard and loud.
Samantha Watson, May 10, 2021
I am a better person for having had him in my life and I will never, ever forget how his smile could light up the world (even if he was cracking a joke at my expense). I love you, my friend, and will always keep you close to my heart. Thank you for all that you did for me and so many others when we needed you the most
I do not know how it can be that Adam Marks is gone. Look at that devilish smile. The most alive, brilliant, sparkling musician-artist-person-collaborator. His heart and compassion measured up to his talent and precision. Oh, my friend, we had so many more adventures to have and things to make.
Jenny Mudge, May 2021
Adam was my soulmate, my love, my inspiration, my comedian, my co-conspirator. We had a connection that ran deep beyond this lifetime and I know we will meet again.
Kymm Costa, May 2021
I grieve with you to my deepest core and will always be here for you to share our love for Adam.
Dear Craig, your brother was an immense walking column of light, shining and bringing joy to all he came in contact with. I first met him around 14 years ago, but it was during his trip to Singapore in 2013 to play a concert with me and guest teach my students that I got to know this incredible, life-affirming man. To Adam, everything he experienced was “the best”- the best coconut milk, the best mango smoothie, the best sushi, the best hotel in Bali, the best piece of music…….and this abundant gratitude for everything he touched was infectious. He even managed to put a positive spin on dropping his cellphone down an elevator shaft. I will keep that sense of wonder and gratitude in my heart as I continue to be grateful to having spent time with your brother during his short time amongst us, the lesser evolved humans. We cannot soothe your grief, but please know how many people your brother influenced, inspired, and loved with that amazing heart of his.
Lori Kaufman, May 2021
Adam.
I love you. You were one of my best friends and the best hug of the pandemic (I’m so glad I made that trip to New York.) Our Zooms and conversations and silly workouts, even through the internet, were some of the highlights of the past year for me. You really saw me, even back at NMOP in 2011, through the quiet, awkward girl on the outside, and you’ve been one the most affirming and supportive people around me at every stage. Your performances of “Space” move me deeply, and your advocacy for me, from all the way back when, does too. We had so many more plans that we were working on – I owed you an email at the end. You’ve helped me grow in so many ways. I don’t know anyone kinder, more thoughtful, more generous, or who can make me laugh more reliably.This is a really hard one.
LJ White, May 2021
There is no one like Adam in our world, so generous with his time and energy to help musicians and composers, and to make our community and world a better place. I can’t believe it…Adam, thank you for everything you gave us. You will be greatly missed, and I cherish every memory I have of you.
Stacey Garrop, May 2021
I thought we had all the time in the world.
Matt Albert, May 2021
I was planning on visiting you in a few weeks, connecting with a man who lived his live so honestly, respectfully, inspiringly, vulnerably, so energetically. Who had a husband, family, and friends who loved him, and a heart big enough to return that love four times over. I’ve seen how valuable and rare that loving and that living was, and I was planning on learning from you for as long as I could.
I wanted to play more (I’m ready for the Adam SmashTM moment in the third movement of Road Movies right now), to talk more, to plan more, to grow together more. I’ve wrapped my head around the fact that you’re gone, and I’ll never be able to measure the size of that loss, because it will continue to grow with every missed opportunity that could have been in the years to come.
I love you, Adam. We should have had many more hammocks to swing in, many more shows to attend, dinners to share, recitals to play, groups to hang with, and terrible renditions of Agony to sing late at night when no one/everyone was listening. (I was terrible. You were amazing.)
May your memory be a blessing for so many.
One of the most joyful, generous, and talented humans I’ve ever had the luck to know died over the weekend. What a life you lived, Adam Marks. You made the world more kind and beautiful in both your relationships and your art.
Our friendship was, for me, silliness and comfort and ease. A deep trust that the weirdest parts were welcome.I miss you, friend. I’m going to blow my weepy nose into a tissue now and then wipe my eyes with the same tissue, just to drive you nuts one more time.
Annie Levin, May 2021
I met Adam Marks many years ago now after a concert in NYC. He came up to me and introduced himself as a fellow pianist, and told me he was moving to Chicago soon. “I’ll look you up when I get there”, he said. “We’ll be friends!” I remember thinking after that exchange that I already felt like I’d known him forever.
Lisa Kaplan, May 2021
Adam was one of the sunniest, most giving, generous and loving people that I have had the privilege of knowing. The moment he walked into any room you could feel his warmth and positive energy just radiating. He was the best hugger. He was always there for me. Once after I had a particularly bad breakup he just showed up on my doorstep with a bagful of junk food and a literal 5 pound chocolate bar. I still have that chocolate bar in my cupboard, we couldn’t finish it. Another time he was staying with me for a few days and he made me watch the movie, Sharknado. I loved his penchant for the ridiculous.
I loved collaborating with Adam too. He was so easy to perform with and we mostly spent the better part of rehearsals, laughing.
I thought we would be life-long friends. Grow old together. We had always imagined that.
We love you Adam. You will be in our hearts always.
I wish I had spent more time with you while we were neighbors, Friend.
Dana Shulman, May 2021
Thankful for the shows and weddings that brought us together in our post-college lives. Grateful we shared the Vaxlunteer experience together. Always grateful for your kindness. The world lost one of its really good humans and my heart hurts.
We love you, Adam.
I keep hearing your laugh in my head and hope that this is all some joke gone horribly wrong. We were planning on eating “night croissants” and watching bad movies in Sea Ranch in just a few days. I really don’t want to believe you’re gone, Adam.
I feel so incredibly lucky to have called you a friend and collaborator. You made me feel welcome, you held me up and talked me through one of the worst times of my life after only knowing me for a couple weeks. I deeply admire you for your ability to reach for the things you wanted, but enjoy what you already had. Knowing that you had such a positive effect on somany lives is the thing keeping me afloat right now. Love you, Adam. May your memory be a blessing.
Diana Wade, May 2021
Adam Marks, you were one of the kindest, most wonderful people I’ve known, and a fantastic pianist to boot. You were taken from us far too young, and it’s hard to even believe you’re gone. So happy to have played mini gold with crocodiles in FL, see a Broadway show, and even spend several weeks together in Australia–Adam and I were roommates on an 8th Blackbird trip, and it was an absolute pleasure then, and always.
Nick Photinos, May 2021
Adam was a first year college student and I was a first-time TA at Brandeis. We bonded instantly because we were both from California. He couldn’t believe that I didn’t know about Jamba Juice. We both agreed that peet’s needed to be more readily available on the east coast. It was a sight-singing class (with David Rakowskii teaching the main class..which was awesome and fun for both Adam and myself). For the sight-singing final, I had the students pick their favorite song and sing it in solfege. Adam picked the Muppets theme song, sang it in solfege, AND accompanied himself on the piano. It was the most memorable and joyful moment of the year for me and probably for all of Adam’s classmates. Adam and I stayed in touch over the years. He played my music. He met me for coffee in NY when I was in town, and he met my family and I for the best brunch ever in Berlin (fall, 2017). He was really special and the world is a better place because of everything that Adam did and all of the people he touched. I’m so so sorry for this loss but I’m so grateful that I got to know him.
Lori San Martin, May 2021
It’s that smile…I keep seeing his unbelievably vibrant smile.
Vicki Ray, May 2021
This is as difficult a post as I’ve ever felt the need to share. This past week we lost a former faculty member here, but more than that an artist, human, and friend that was a brilliant light in our world. Adam Marks was such a great person to know…for 20 years, or 20 seconds. We were fortunate enough to have him on our faculty for a number of years before his move to NYC, although I first got to know him with the 5HE bunch as they formed. Always upbeat, visionary, and generous, I was blessed to work with him several projects…including this
concert from 2017 when he played my transcription of Gershwin’s “Second Rhapsody”. For an encore he played Gershwin’s 2nd Prelude on what I’ll always know as “Adam’s Piano”. This was the Steinway D that he selected especially for Carthage’s Seibert Chapel from the NYC showroom. We heard him play it in a short recital when it was delivered, and I can still remember that warm, luscious sound he coaxed out of it then.
I was supposed to call him at 3:00 today (just 5 minutes from now) to discuss a new piano concerto we were going to commission for him to play with us in 2023.
James Ripley, May 2021
Life is too short…
We love you, and miss you, Adam.