My talented, hard-working pal’s suicide was not ‘fate’
HAVING spent seven days last week arguing with people about the drug crisis, I did not expect to wake up on Monday to be told that another friend had died. But that’s precisely what happened.
David McQuarrie, a 26-year-old born and bred in Glasgow’s east end, was found dead at his family home on Sunday night after taking his own life.
Known to many in the hip-hop community as Laigo, David was a prolific music producer who came to my attention around 2011.
Back then, he was a budding young beatmaker, keen to make a name for himself locally, and hoped he and I could collaborate.
That day marked the beginning of a long creative partnership which (and I’m sure I can speak for him too) played a pivotal role in both our lives.
In fact, only days before his death, I released an album that featured many of his arrangements, as well as his artwork.
His music is also featured on my BBC Scotland series, the first episode of which, about the drug crisis, aired just a few days before he died.
David longed so much for a career break but matched this ambition with hard graft.
He was the kind of guy you could message at any time of the day and get a reply.
Indeed, his productivity level was, in many ways, unnatural and in his short life he must have produced thousands of tracks.
I know David, like many of us, had his problems. I also know he was battling some demons where substance misuse is concerned. He confided in me, on many occasions, about his desire to nip his habits in the bud.
David was also blessed with a loving family, who supported his creativity. He was adored by his nephews and regarded by acquaintances as a bright, funny and enigmatic figure.
I always sensed that David desired to connect with people, perhaps more than he felt able to. He seemed to struggle socially. Unlike many of his musical contemporaries, he was not fond of nights out or playing live shows.
He would often cancel at the last minute, citing work or health problems but given my own tendency to do the same when I’m struggling, he wasn’t fooling me.
David eschewed the party lifestyle of the music scene, opting instead for the more reclusive life of a studio rat, burning the candle at both ends, till the wee hours, tinkering with his wonderful creations.
We had big plans. I always felt David had the potential to become one of Scotland’s world-beating producers, in the mould of Lucky Me alumni like Hudson Mohawke and Rustie.
It was always my view that he would, with the right support and attitude, go on to achieve whatever he desired.
This was a belief I reiterated to him many times throughout the course of our friendship. A belief that makes his tragic passing all the more difficult to accept.
David was an inspiring, talented young man with the grandest vision for his life.
It’s tempting to write tragedies like this off to fate. That in some strange way, everything happens for a reason.
I don’t believe this was meant to be. He should be here.
I’m sure I’m not the only person wondering if they could have done more. I suppose that is natural.
Though what isn’t natural is the fact that the first question that now arises in my mind when I hear that someone else has passed is simply: “Who’s next?”