Jason Budjinski Remembered
Jason Budjinski
On Tuesday, June 16th just after midnight, longtime South Florida musician and writer Jason Budjinski died after several years of suffering from primary sclerosing cholangitis and Crohn’s disease. He was 38 years old.
While Jason had received local media attention for chronicling much of his health complications over the last few years – even getting a mention on Twitter from Congresswoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz on his brave fight – he was known best to many of us as the enigmatic frontman to some of this areas most beloved bands over the last two decades, including The Happy Accidents, Mute-Ants, Billy Boloby, Pots N Pans, the Bittercups (the last of which I may be only slightly partial to because I finally got to play bass with him).
He operated by what he called the “anti-pretentious” model, going headfirst into some of the most delightfully ridiculous stage performances around. While others would be content to pop a collar, smoke a cigarette and hold up the wall of the facility, Jason was the polar opposite and encouraged all of us to get out of whatever ‘too cool’ ego, awkwardness or shyness we might be holding onto and join in on the fun. In his online ‘manifesto’ he stressed the importance of sharing in the experience of a show, saying
“It’s not the songs themselves but the act of the band sharing their songs with the audience. Bands do not perform in a vacuum; the audience is equally important.”
All of Paul Weller and Pee Wee Herman wrapped into one, he was intent on creating music but more importantly, creating it here instead of jetting off to whatever city of the moment that bands were moving to. His dancing was something that stopped others in amazement, as a spastic and energized herky-jerky interpretation of the otherwise tightly controlled ‘step, touch and snap’ move of Holland/Dozier/Holland era Motown back-up performers that he loved to listen to.
He saw a show as a true event, saying on his blog once that his intention was “to view live shows as more than just randomly playing a set of songs, as if it’s just band practice with a bunch of people watching.”
To me, he was a former bandmate, a fellow journo and most importantly a friend.
The first place I met Jason was most likely where many early 90’s teenagers into anything outside of spray tans and keg stands would’ve met – at the legendary (to us, anyways) epicenter of Palm Beach County punk rock, the long-defunct hole-in-the-wall club, the Foundation. Wearing an oversized black business blazer festooned with band buttons, safety pins and various other shiny metal objects, he was holding onto a latched briefcase that I would later learn contained nothing more than several neatly packed sleeves of unsalted Saltine crackers. I didn’t question it, just figured he was someone who always showed up prepared. I’d realize over time just how true this was of his personality.
He was an odd amalgamation of consummate performer, prankster and inquisitive punk rocker whose sarcasm, cynical sense of humor and ability to be down for just about anything made him so much damn fun to be around. He would easily grab your attention with skate tricks, stories about the Church of the SubGenius or whatever recent Maximum Rock ‘n’ Roll article had inspired him.
The ‘question everything’ punk ethos of his teenage years stayed for the long term, making him a natural and truly engaged journalist whether it was penning music columns for Broward/Palm Beach NewTimes or covering western Palm Beach County politics for the Town-Crier.
In recent years, as Crohns and primary sclerosing cholangitis (PSC) dealt him complication after complication, he chronicled his own health battles on his blog, in a plea in the Palm Beach Post for twenty-something’s to not go without health insurance titled “A Message for ‘Generation Invincible’” or with humor and grace like this quote from “An open letter to my colon” piece that said “Remember all those backyard barbecues, all those prime rib dinners? Neither do I; they never happened — because I loved you.”
Jason’s death leaves a negative space in so many of the hearts that he touched in his 38 years but he also left us with so much content. I have been pouring over his old columns http://www.browardpalmbeach.com/authors/jason-budjinski, his cyber library http://boloby.com/ entries and happily finding any video performances that someone (pre iPhones) was thoughtful enough to record. He is survived by his mother Maureen, father Gary, brother Matt and all of us who were lucky enough to know him. In lieu of flowers, his family requests donations in Jason’s name to PSC Partners Seeking a Cure.
~Terra Sullivan
Happy Accidents live at The Wormhole, WPB 1995
Happy Accidents live on Resident Noize WPBR 1995
