Like many of my friends tonight, I am gutted to learn of Howie Pyro’s passing. If I ever needed a reference human to the phrase “lovable weirdo,” Howie fit that description to a T. A guy with some serious punk rock pedigree (Howie partied as a teenager with Sid Vicious the night Vicious died, to name one incident), Howie also played guitar, and later bass, with The Blessed, D Generation, and Danzig, to name a few. However, the Howie Pyro that I knew and loved was quite possibly the most insane collector I have ever met (and that’s saying a lot). He labeled himself “collector exxxtreme,” and I think that is pretty accurate.
He was one of the most knowledgeable music guys I ever met, with a specific kink toward the wild, the crazy, the nuttiest rock ’n’ roll records of the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s. He worked as a DJ (both live and on Intoxica Radio), playing some of the most obscure and tantalizingly rare vinyl in the world. He turned me on to lots of records I didn’t know about, and I know he had the same effect on lots of other folks. He really, really, really knew his stuff. And when it comes to matters of music, that is the highest compliment I can give.
He had some bad health problems the last few years, and most recently was hospitalized with a liver transplant. We all thought he’d recover and be the same old weird, great, crazy Howie, back at the next big show. Some people, when they go, leave a hole that won’t ever be replaced. I can’t believe I won’t see Howie again. RIP, my friend.
You have to pay to see this episode of “Collection Intervention” but…it’s frickin’ brilliant. He was never going to give up any of that stuff, which I fully supported. He had one of THE great collections of all time:
