Memorial words, Kent Andersen | Thoughts on Kent Andersen’s passing

Then you were irretrievably gone, dear Kent. Physically speaking. It must be very difficult for your wife Sissel, your daughter Lill-Monica, your grandchildren Trym, Tuva and Teodor and your other relatives to accept this. To understand it.

Also for the rest of us who were able to take part in your life, it is quite unreal – now almost a month after you passed away on 10.4.24. A very meager consolation must be that the memories of you are so many and so strong that you will “live a long time in the country”.

Your death came so suddenly. There was no time for any particular mental preparation, and there were many of us who did not at all show that you were affected by the absolutely terrible disease Cancer Pancreatis – better known as pancreatic cancer.

You were one of those people who was not “like” everyone else. Most people probably have some quirk, but you really stood out. I always thought that you were mistaken for one of the 3 musketeers in the novel by Aleksandre Dumas.

I remember a drawing of them in some book from secondary school. It has always haunted me when I saw you, and the association often brought a smile to my face. I thought to myself: “How wonderful that you always dare to be yourself, Kent!” But I never told you.

Another person you strongly reminded me of in terms of appearance was Ritchie Blackmore – the demonic guitarist in Deep Purple. You could have been his twin brother! And then there was a correlation between you in the music.

You liked both Purple and Zeppelin. But you weren’t demonic… at least not in adulthood, although it could probably flash in your eyes if you were provoked.

In your youth it was a little different. We grew up in geographical proximity – you just behind Glom Buss – me at the intersection of Tuneveien/Lundgårdsvei. You were born in 1952, I in 1955. When I was 10, you were 13. There is quite a significant age difference in such a phase of life, and I was actually a little afraid of you. You were so dark! Looked like an Italian pickpocket. And that fascinated me.

One day you invited the little boy to your home. Why I still don’t know. It was a formidable shock! Home? Far from! You and your mother lived in a … workshop! Along with a man who didn’t seem to have taken a bath in at least the last year. He was awful.

To get to the “apartment” we had to climb a chicken ladder! I myself came from a distinctly bourgeois home and the contrasts were simply unimaginably great. No human could live like that! But of course, you grew up there.

At your funeral, pastor Berg described you as “a dandelion child”. I had to nod to myself when I sat at the back of Skjeberg church and heard the statement. You were truly a dandelion child. It is a popular scientific term for a child who copes and who gets minimal “wounds” despite a tough upbringing.

You and I lived in separate worlds, but there was something that bound us together – music. But first you had to experience the challenges and dangers of youth. And you didn’t brake, but gave full throttle. In your Ford Galaxie! “Ræggær-Kent” became a term. Together with Claes, “Beavert”, Rune & co. rampage around – in both Norway and Sweden.

You were far from tame. Did you avoid prison, although you were probably eligible for “bread and water” at the state’s expense for some of your “irregularities”?

I watched you from a safe distance. I was unsure of you when I was little and it also followed me when you lived through “The heavy years” in your and my youth. We never got along at that time. But something must have happened along the way. I’m guessing it must have had something to do with the fact that you met Sissel’s daughter to a sow (!) in Sarpsborg.

Long story short: You became people! Yes – you even became a government employee. As a postman in our town, you ensured that the institution’s “credo” – “Posten skal frem” – was put into practice. Summer and winter. In scorching sun, in shivering cold degrees. I heard you were barely away from work one day. A conscientious citizen who loved his job.

That’s the Kent I met again after you had found your place in the “system”. And that’s the Kent I really fell in love with. Then music became our lowest common multiple. You were very musical. We played in each of our bands – you in “The Last Gang” – I in Klas Max. And later Deja Vu.

There was a few years’ difference between these bands’ tenure, but the fact that we were both performing musicians created a new bond.

Every time we met, the topic came up: “Should we start a real heavy band and play Zeppelin covers?” Unfortunately, that was the end of the dream, but it fueled many fantasies in our pleasant, joint future plans.

Your musical preferences were not limited to heavy rock. You were fascinated by jazz, replaced the Fender bass with a double bass and went wild with Niels Henning Ørsted Pedersen! And you broke a bunch of musical codes.

One of Norway’s current superb bassists – Rino Johannessen – has recently told me that you and he jointly studied the Danish genius bassist’s playing style and learned a lot from this. I myself heard you accompany the singer Dag Hansen’s performance of songs from both Taube and Bellman’s repertoire. Brilliantly performed by both of you. Good memories!

Yes, yes, dear Kent’ærn! These became some scattered thoughts that I felt a strong need to put down on paper on a Sunday morning in May. There is certainly much else that could be written about you. In any case: That was the life it became for you – and I definitely think it was a very good life, despite a certainly tortuous start.

Your funeral showed with all possible clarity what qualities you had – and: That you used them! Your feedback will be undividedly positive. Your grandchildren’s poignant presentation of their thoughts and experiences about a thoroughly kind, good, funny, fun-loving, caring and present grandfather did not leave a dry eye among those present in a packed Skjeberg church – a beautiful sunny day in April.

And: You would doubtless have loved the performance of Hendrix’s “Hey Joe”! Your grandson Trym on drums, Torstein Guttormsen on bass and Adrian Bjerketvedt literally raised the church roof in an eminent combination! At full blast! It sounded “decent”! I refuse to believe that anything similar has happened out there in the medieval church in the past. It suited a genuine original like you perfectly!

Thank you for life and what you gave us – we who were lucky enough to experience you, dear Kent!