VIPER guitarist and co-founder Felipe Machado published an open letter to Andre Matos , one year after his death.
Check out this moving account of what a year without Andre Matos has been like:
"Dear Dedé,
Time is a funny thing. In theory, it always seems logical, hour after hour, day after day, month after month. But that's only in theory. In our minds, it makes inexplicable turns, dancing back and forth at the whim of a wind that changes direction constantly. A memory that happened decades ago seems like yesterday; an event that happened a week ago no longer exists, it's so distant.
Today marks one year since you died. When I tell people this, many say to me, "One year already?" or "Time flies," almost an insult because it's so cliché. They imply that it went by quickly, that it was just the other day. I'm not so sure. So many things have happened since then that I have the impression that June 8, 2019, passed an eternity ago. In another life, perhaps, another world, where clocks are crazy and memory is treacherous.
Nobody understood his death. Most deaths come as a shock, but his didn't make sense. It still doesn't. I was at the beach, at Quintino's house, when some journalists started calling me to confirm whether it was true or not. The first time I didn't pay much attention, I thought it was 'fake news', gossip. When the second journalist called, however, I felt a chill that ran through my soul from head to toe. It was a shiver, a bad feeling, like a gust of wind that enters unannounced through a crack in the window. I started calling everyone, until Hugo confirmed it. It didn't make sense, but at the same time, I recognize that death rarely does. I started crying, I was with Bebel, she asked me what had happened. "Uncle Andre died," I told her. And I couldn't believe the sound of my own words.
What followed was downhill. Many tributes, all respectfully deserved. With each one, I felt the sensation of paying homage to you, to who you were, but at the same time an immense loneliness came over me. This happened, I think, because your name was pronounced so many, many times, but in none of those moments was it accompanied by your voice or your image to my right on stage. It was a catharsis, but extremely ambiguous, because I was very happy to see the love the audience had for you, but sad to know that when the last chord of those tributes sounded, reality would impose itself again. And it was only one thing: you were no longer here.
This is all very strange. I never imagined you'd be the first of us to leave. I never imagined, in fact, that any of us could die. In my mind, we were always immortal. I always considered us invincible. Death? It doesn't come for Soldiers of the Dawn. We are the Knights of Destruction, we are shielded against adversity. The Wings of Evil would never literally carry us through the skies, what nonsense. They were just naive metaphors sung by teenagers pretending not to be afraid of the horror movies shown in my apartment's TV room. Remember?
There was one tribute that was particularly memorable: on July 13th, at Rafael's invitation, we brought together members of VIPER, Angra, and Shaman for a show in Praça da República. Right there, where we used to buy leather belts and bracelets and cheap iron studs to imitate Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath. If you were alive, this reunion would never have happened. Imagine what you would say if you saw "Felipe Machado" on an Angra credential? Well, it happened. And it was beautiful. You had to die to bring your three bands together on the same stage. When we played "Living for the Night," thousands of people joined in and sang that Pit lyric that you immortalized. It was so loud and so powerful that I thought you could hear it up there in heaven. The next day we did another show in your honor, VIPER and Shaman, and we played "Moonlight" in your honor. The moon was so full, so beautiful, that I thought it was you, looking down at us from above. Did we play your music correctly, maestro?
Baron and I planned a tour with members of VIPER and Shaman. The idea was good on paper, but in real life it didn't work out very well. Too many people, each with a different mindset. All very nice guys, but it didn't go ahead. We only did one great show in São Paulo, recorded some versions of old songs. The intention was good, but then we ended up each going our own way, us with Leandro; Shaman with Alírio. Who knows, maybe one day we'll play together again? That would be awesome.
This was a factual summary of what happened in our world, but there are more things between heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy. Most of what happened, to tell the truth, cannot be described in words. I already knew you were loved, but I confess I was surprised by the magnitude and breadth of that feeling. I realized it wasn't just the love of fans for their idol. There was and is something more, an admiration for you as a person, as a human being, much deeper than the relationship between the public and the artist.
During the mass that Nando and Teti organized, I could see the emotion of the people up close. People who only knew Andre Matos from the stage, that famous guy, hugged me tightly, as if they had lost Andre, their friend. It's hard to explain what I felt that day. It was the last time I saw Thais, from Pit's group; she also passed away soon after you. I hope you two met up there, send her a kiss. Such a dear person, Pit suffered twice in the same week, I don't know how his heart endured it. So many people came to talk to me at that mass that it felt like the whole world had grown with us at Veiga Filho. It was a mix of emptiness, because of your absence, and pride, seeing the intensity of everyone's love for you.
You weren't just a vocalist. You were a voice.
That breath of harmony that came from your throat made people stop and listen, no matter if you were singing or speaking one of the thousand languages you spoke. There was a respectful mourning, a truly magical affection. You deserved and deserve every one of those tears. Some politicians have officially declared June 8th as "Heavy Metal Day"; a fan named a species of spider after you. When I told Dani this, we laughed a lot. You would find a much more fitting tribute.
Since then, a lot has happened. Brazil has gone backwards, which isn't surprising. We take two steps forward and ten steps back; that's our history. Another unarmed Black man was murdered in the United States, and protests spread everywhere. Unfortunately, we have no leaders in the world, only pathetic and egocentric buffoons. You should look down and feel ashamed. I know, I feel that way too. Nothing, however, has been as impactful as a pandemic caused by a new virus. You'd be surprised by something else: now reality is a matter of opinion. Everyone has their own truth; can you imagine how confusing that is? Don't even bother asking, because I can't explain how we got to this point.
Today the whole world is honoring you. VIPER too, of course. Remember when you went to Lico's studio to listen to the live album and didn't like your voice on "The Spreading Soul"? Remember that you even re-recorded a take of the song? Well, Lico recovered the files, Guilherme organized the re-recording of the instrumental. All of this gave rise to "The Spreading Soul Forever." You said this was one of your favorite songs, didn't you? Well, here it is. It's beautiful, your voice was made for it. I can't even say much because Pit is jealous. It's his favorite, and mine too. But now there's no discussion: it's eternal. "The Spreading Soul Forever." You need to see the video that Eco and Anderson created. Your soul spreading through São Paulo, watching us down here. We called Yves, he was moved. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. You were with us, I'm sure.
Some years pass quickly, others take a century to pass. Time is persistent, but not very reliable. Days, hours, and seconds are just numbers. What counts is the time that flows within the heart, the memories we build along the way. Fast or slow, I don't know which category this period between June 8, 2019, and June 8, 2020, fits into. What I do know, however, is that it was an incomplete year. A year in which so much happened, and yet, an empty year. How much I miss your voice.”
READ ALSO : VIPER releases the unreleased track “The Spreading Soul Forever” sung by Andre Matos; listen
