Between 2011 and 2014, I was lucky enough to play in a band with Peder Hedman. More importantly, between 2003 and 2017, I was lucky enough to call Peder a friend. For Peder—who passed away this week following a heart attack—those two things, music and friendship, were always inextricably linked.
We both approached our relationship in the band as an extension of our friendship, which isn’t the way musicians usually engage with one another. We didn’t always agree on how a song should sound, but the trust and openness established in our practice space pushed me in new directions as a writer. I will always remember how our friendship allowed me to develop into a better musician.
On this sad day, there are countless musicians and music fans alike reaching similar conclusions across Milwaukee and beyond. Through his playing in such acts as Liquid Pink and Tweaker, Peder inspired a generation of players here in town. For those lucky enough to have seen these seminal bands perform, Peder’s presence was the key to their success. A gifted songwriter, guitarist and singer, Peder radiated warmth and sincerity whenever he got on stage.
Offstage, he was never aloof or unapproachable; he would talk to anyone at any time about music or any other topic. Not surprisingly, inspiration often became mentorship for many of his fans, myself included. Peder would go out of his way to encourage up-and-coming musicians and was more than happy to suggest records that he thought such musicians needed to hear. After all, that’s what friends do.
Yet what I will always remember most about Peder was his curiosity. He was always asking me about bands I thought he should check out and what I was listening to. And I knew he was always down to go with me to a show that I thought was worth attending. He valued my musical opinion as a good friend would. We shared the belief that stagnation of any kind was bad—that there was always something new out there just waiting to inspire you.
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This attitude carried over into his musical career. Many people were puzzled when they heard Bicentennial Rub, the band that Peder played in with Kurt Bauer, Zak Holochwost and me. Bicentennial Rub was a punk band that sounded very little like Peder’s earlier bands, and he loved that. He loved the fact that he was trying something different—that he was able to craft songs that drew from bands that he admired like Flipper and Black Flag that had never had the chance to influence his work before. I never told him this, but I was so impressed with his willingness to take a chance on our band. I will be forever grateful that he did.
In hindsight, I have come to realize that Peder agreed to play in Bicentennial Rub because of our friendship. I was going through a tough time in 2011, and Peder was always there for me. While talking with him, I often mentioned my desire to play in a band as a way to deal with my emotions and issues. We had discussed a potential collaboration in the past, but something always seemed to get in the way. This time, nothing did. Peder made it happen just when I needed it the most. Such a willingness to help others is ultimately Peder’s legacy.
Peder Hedman was so much more than a generous musician: He was a devoted husband and father, a loyal son and a talented painter. And I’m so happy that he was also my friend.
Goodbye, Peder.
