Farah Nayeri
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Remembering Mark Beech:  Arts Editor, Music Writer and Friend

20/6/2020

8 Comments

 
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I find it hard to write about Mark Beech in the past tense. In my mind's eye, it's a Saturday afternoon in late summer, and I'm enjoying champagne and conversation with Mark and two other friends at the Arts Club, one of the many upscale London clubs that he's a member of (see picture). Mark is wearing a striped summer jacket and his famously boyish smile. He's doing what he likes: entertaining friends in style.

I first met Mark through his writing. We were both at Bloomberg, and he was beginning to contribute rock-music columns to Muse, the culture section. I was an arts correspondent but also a copy editor, so his pieces would come to me before publication. And they were really good: written in clear, sharp, tongue-in-cheek prose.

Before I knew it, Mark was an editor on the team, then my manager. For several years, I sat a few desks away from him.  Despite the pressures he was under and the ungodly hours he put in, Mark never raised his voice. He always stood up for his people, and stuck his neck out for them. I used to call him our 'nuclear umbrella.' 

Mark loved a little banter in the course of the day, and never hesitated to laugh at himself. "I have chips on both shoulders," he would say of his extensive collection of sports cars, which he drove on the weekend to Donnington, his vast farm in Herefordshire. He chuckled at the story of the British multimillionaire philanthropist I'd interviewed over lunch at a fancy restaurant, whose spotlessly shined shoe got stuck on an adhesive mousetrap. We laughed together at the wealthy wives turned philanthropists -- "the ladies who lunch" -- who were so desperate for the art world to take them seriously. 

And boy did he love his job. On a typical day, he'd come in early, his weighty leather briefcase slung over his shoulder, and settle into his office chair for the next 10 to 12 hours. From there, he would run the coverage, which might consist of a report on Nazi-looted art, an artist interview (from me),  an art review, a theater review, a food review. Then in the evening he'd rev up for a category of coverage he enjoyed immensely: contemporary-art auctions. The more stratospheric the prices, the juicier the story. Artworks often went for eight and nine digits, so there were plenty of headlines for Mark to send out, and much excitement to be had.

Mark was a man of many talents, and I wish he had nurtured some of them more. He could draw. I went up to his desk one day and asked him to sketch something. With a few strokes of the pencil, he drew the perfect armchair. I know he made drawings and paintings occasionally. It would be great to see them.

Mark never stopped his music writing, delivering his verdict on everything from Glastonbury to Gaga.
He developed a rock-star social-media following in the process: 1.2 million followers on his Twitter account (check it out). Here's a picture of him in rock-critic mode: 
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Pictured on the left is the cover of his last book: "All You Need is Rock," published in 2014 (which I had the honor of proofreading, and for which he gave me an unforgettable mention in the acknowledgements). It's a compendium of his rock columns.

Leafing through it again, I find the chapter on Amy Winehouse particularly poignant.

Mark recalls dropping by a pub in Camden Town called the Hawley Arms, Amy's local, where she sometimes served drinks at the dawn of her fame. And she pours him a glass. "I suspect she wasn't sober," he writes. "But neither was I. She wasn't good with money, change or pouring the drinks -- the J20 went all over the place but the quantity of Gordons was extremely generous."

He then describes her rise and fall. "The tattoos multiplied, the Cleopatra kohl wings grew around her eyes. The heels became taller, the skirts shorter and her beehive hair piled higher. She was pictured everywhere, bruised, bloodied, intoxicated, dressed only in dirty bra and shorts."

In 2011, Mark covers her death. He then revisits Camden, reads the cards piled around her home, and revisits the Hawley Arms.

"I had a G&T for old times' sake, thought of her 5 million album sales and wrote up forecasts of that number doubling in fairly short order," he writes.

Nine years later, it's my turn to have a drink for old times' sake. And it'll have to be champagne, of course. Thinking of Mark.
​ 
8 Comments
Penny Brownjohn link
20/6/2020 11:23:50 am

Im so sorry to hear of your loss. I wish that I had met him. How wonderfully you draw his personality in words, I’m sure that he would have loved to know that you would have created that for him.
Drink another glass of champagne from me.

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Keeva
20/6/2020 12:52:13 pm

Dear Farah,

Thank you writing so eloquently about Mark. He spoke of you frequently and enjoyed your champagne afternoons tremendously. Mark was my North Star. Life without him is less charming, much less bright. He Is best remembered as you have written. None of us will be capable of forgetting him and neither would we wish to do so. I am metaphorically raising a glass of champagne to our own Super Nova and hope to be able to do the same with you, soon.

With love

Keeva

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Kevin P. Reynolds
20/6/2020 04:17:13 pm

Thank you for bringing Mark back to life if only for a few minutes. I could see and hear him while reading your lovely tribute. Thank you again.

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Raphael Minder
21/6/2020 12:23:08 am

I had no idea Mark died. It's always very sad to find such things out, but at least it is in a very special way, thanks to your words and this wonderful postcard of a man who clearly loved his job, music and friends. It seems Bloomberg certainly had a way of finding people committed to work... RIP Mark

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emilia kabakov
23/6/2020 12:00:40 pm

Dear Farah
what a wonderful, poetic description of a really talented person. and a great journalist.
I only read a few of his articles. But the way you describe him ,the image became alive, vibrant with energy and positivity. I miss your writing!!!

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Hal Fujimori
24/6/2020 07:22:01 am

Dear Farah,

Thanks for letting us know about this sad news. I haven’t realised that Mark is not with us anymore.

I was fortunate to get to known him and work together at Bloomberg. He was sitting down behind me when I joined the firm. I remember him devoting to his works endlessly.
MIT was him when it came to music. I had a chat with him when the Eagles released their latest album “Long Road Out of Eden” and I was impressed to get his insights of music.

It’s a great loss. Certainly he would be missed by many including myself.

R.I.P.

Hal

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James Russell
28/6/2020 11:49:05 am

Dear Farah,
I'm just seeing this being much too social-media averse. I didn't get to know Mark well but always loved his warmth, cheerful outlook, and obsession. Miss him and MISS YOU!

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Ann McCawley
16/6/2021 02:47:43 am

I dated Mark many years ago and when we were seeing each other, he gave me a copy of Passionfruit. Yesterday, I re-read the poems, really enjoyed them and just looked him up to write and say how much I enjoyed them now - only to find he died last year. Very sad news and bad timing on my part. Wish I hadn’t waited so long to tell him I enjoyed his poetry - and the times we shared. He died before his time and my sympathies go to his family abd friends.

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