Six more miles, long and sad…
Hardy Fox has died. October 30th, 2018, Hardy died in his home from glioblastoma, a brain tumor. Rumors and news declaring Mr. Fox’s passing had been circulating the internet for weeks prior to his actual death. He himself had sent a few e-mails to fans declaring that the end was near, but not something that he dreaded. It sounded as though he had found some peace in that time.
Hardy Fox was the driving force of the Cryptic Corporation and a primary consultant in the compositions produced by The Residents. His contributions to their musical and visual development were invaluable and it may be fair to say that without Hardy Fox, there would be no Residents as we know them. His passing has brought forward a mourning fan-base; all sharing music, stories, encounters, and mysteries that seemed to surround Hardy in his life. Having never met Mr. Fox, I can only report what has been spoken of him from those closest to him. He was a private man, but he was a kind and generous inhabitant of the planet Earth.
The Residents will survive. Theirs is an immortality that transcends the death of the physical embodiment of flesh and bone. If the documentation of their musical history has shown us anything, it is the possibility of potential that they carry like a child through the dark wilderness of consciousness. Sounds will change. Even the same sounds that you had known forever will change. Something can happen to a series of continuous patterns where the pattern begins to blur and meld into one singular, solid form; only to eventually break apart and return to the initial presentation again.
— TheOfficialResidents (@theResidents) July 13, 2012
In these times it would appear as though we need The Residents now more than ever. Instead of turning their nose up at the social, political, and psychic waves that surrounded them in their times, The Residents embraced all of the realities of the world around them. Where it was en vogue to become cynical and uncaring towards the plight of disaster, The Residents cuddled up to it and made disaster on their own terms. Destroying and re-shaping their world over and over again had produced a different world. It was a very specific and vague world of shadows, light, steam, and rain. In their construction of the world, The Residents cast out a net with a hunting horn. Those who heeded the call would become rabid with their theory of obscurity. More would never be enough.
Hardy Fox has died. His life was weird and wonderful and difficult and blessed; much like most peoples is. The Residents have lost an eye, but their vision has not blurred.