R.I.P. Jeff Grosso

Just heard the terrible news that Jeff Grosso has passed away.

By now you’ve heard it, too.

And, you know, I’m not exaggerating when I say that without him, our weird little world will spin out of balance and it’ll take decades before we stop noticing the sickening wobble of his absence.

Fare thee well.

Over the course of the last week, I’d actually been talking with Jeff about everything. Not on purpose, of course. I called him out of the blue and asked if he wouldn’t mind putting together a short playlist of songs for The Good Problem. Without hesitation, he said yes. Saying yes, he told me, was his new way of doing things. He’d noticed that it made people happier and it made things work smoother.

But.

The ten songs I asked for would definitely not be enough room. He came from the era of the mix tape, and there’s no way a) he could make a good mix from just ten songs, and there’s no way b) he could make a mix that had the Smiths on it and then right after that the Crucifucks. “So I’m just gonna have to make a couple playlists, I guess. Is that okay?”

Taking his cue, and because of course it was more than okay, I said yes.

And then we talked. 

Jeff can talk. I mean, could talk. I mean … fuck. 

The playlists first. He wanted to know if they were good enough, if they were too long, if I’d listened to them. What did I think?

But then also, what was up with my kids? What was up with his kid? What was up with kids in general? He wanted to talk about the Midwest Melee contests from the early 80s in my hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska, and what was, in his opinion (and I agreed), best sadplant picture ever shot.

Jeff Grosso says, “The best sadplant photo ever shot.” You say yes. Lance Mountain. Photo: Larry Balma

He wanted to talk about my injuries and ailments and talked with me about his own, how they were keeping him from skating like he wanted, as much as he wanted, and how he didn’t want to resort to “training” just so he could skate. He talked lovingly about his friends and their problems and successes: Salba, Lance, Eric, Christian, Neil, Peter, Buddy, Rick. He told me about his friend John and their years-long discussion about who was better: Scott Foss or Steve Caballero. Then we talked—nerd level—about Scott Foss and Steve Caballero. 

Humbly, Grosso offered that he was lucky to have been a part of skateboarding, but that he had not contributed to it in any way he considered significant—through his actions or otherwise. I quickly disagreed, easily offering examples of his stellar amateur career, his record selling pro boards, his ability to bend the culture in his direction and make room for the rest of us weirdos and outcasts, and how over the last decade, he’d strolled out onto limb after limb and offered his opinion on contemporary skateboarding, historic skateboarding, and everything in-between through his relentless collaboration with Vans, and Six Stair—Love Letters to Skateboarding. 

But he just brushed it off. 

We talked about dark times and light. We talked about what’s good in skateboarding and what’s bad. And we talked about nothing and everything.

And this is how it was with Jeff. We weren’t besties or anything, but I don’t mind telling you that we were friends. And I’m sure there are lots of people who feel the same … a lot of people who are sad, crushed, and grieving right this very second. 

I’m with you. 

Keep on Truckin’. Photo: O

A few years ago when I was unceremoniously let go from my job, I got an out-of-the-blue call from Jeff. I’m still surprised by it. He wanted me to know he was sorry to hear what had happened. He asked how I was doing. He wanted to know if I was okay. And then he told me about rough times he’d had: getting dropped from this company, getting kicked off that one, troubling times he’d been through with friends, and how he’d tried and been able to repair some of those damaged relationships—through the passing of time, through swallowing his pride, and through saying yes. And by telling me about his experience, he made me feel better about my own.

I don’t know how to end this. I don’t want to end this. I didn’t even want to start this. But Jeff said yes. He liked saying yes. 

Listen to these songs: Titled and compiled by Grosso himself, there’s one punk rock playlist and one emo playlist. Share them, steal them, play them all day and all night. Yes. 

Say yes. 

It’ll make you happier and things will work smoother. —kw

Listen to Jeff Grosso’s emo playlist: Tears As Lubricant

Listen to Jeff Grosso’s punk playlist: Songs Of Unbridled Youth

Listen to Jeff Grosso’s punk playlist: Songs Of Unbridled Youth