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Dustin Lothspeich leaves behind a legacy that sets a top bar
Gear and Loathing and sudden death in San Diego
Dustin Lothspeich, RIP: “He was talented, kind, and thoughtful — the best combo, in my book.”
“Dustin wanted to turn my parents’ dining room into a music room,” says Jen Lothspeich, widow of Dustin Lothspeich, who died unexpectedly of natural causes in his La Mesa home on March 23. “On more than one occasion, he would say, ‘You don’t really need a dining room. This would be a great music room.’ This was before our son was born and before he started eating breakfast at that dining room table every day, of course.” Lothspeich’s bands Bunny Gang, Boy King, Diamond Lakes, and Old Tiger were a firm presence in the local scene, with Old Tiger winning Best Pop Album at the 2013 San Diego Music Awards. KNSD reported that Lothspeich “may have got off the best line of the night when he, while accepting an award for Best Pop Album, told the crowd, ‘First off, we’d like to thank the Heavy Guilt for canceling so we could play.’”
Creative from an early age, Lothspeich possessed a drive and passion that manifested in more realms than the musical, and made an indelible mark on the San Diego scene. His endeavors included the blog Gear and Loathing in San Diego, which delved into the equipment used by his local musical colleagues. Following his death, many of his contemporaries posted tributes on social media, including Josh Damigo, who remembers, “He was talented, kind, and thoughtful — the best combo, in my book.” His love of music made a perfect fit for his work at Vinyl Junkies Record Shack.
Writer Cody J. Thompson recalls that when they met, he was mistaken for someone from Lothspeich’s past. “He told me I looked similar to an old friend of his that he no longer got along with. And he played the entire set glaring at me, pissed that I had the audacity to come in, knowing ‘we’ didn’t get along. Once we cleared it up, we laughed and laughed. It was hilarious to me that he was so angry as he tried to perform, while I sat there drinking a beer, laughing with my wife and friends, making his blood boil.”
The meeting morphed into a friendship that marked a deep life change for Thompson, who was writing a beer blog that was not attracting much attention. Lothspeich offered to be Thompson’s first guest, and the blog eventually morphed into the long-running podcast Beer Night In San Diego. “As a kid,” says Thompson, “my dream was to write. And it was Dustin’s constant encouragement, advice, and belief in me that allowed me to do these things. I remember him telling me how extremely proud of me he was when my first novel was published, and making him proud was something that meant the world to me. He was not only a tremendous friend, with extreme generosity and kindness; he was an inspiration. He will always inspire me, and I will always think of him and hope that he would still be proud of me in the work that I do.”
Lothspeich’s writing for SoundDiego and others leaves behind a body of rock criticism that sets a high bar, thanks in part to his broad range of cultural reference. (An example: the quote from the 1931 version of Frankenstein that introduced his review of The Grave Walks’ debut.) He was also more active in social matters than those who seem content to be keyboard warriors. That activism became more important to him — and to his wife — with the impending arrival of their son, Harrison Atlas.
Says Mrs. Lothspeich, “We went to the protest that preceded the La Mesa riot; I worked in news at the time and was pregnant. It was really something. When the National Guard came to La Mesa after the riots, he drove up to them and said, ‘Try not to kill anyone out here.’ Dustin’s greatest love, of course, was Harrison. We always agreed we wanted to raise a good child who would be kind and respectful to all kinds of people. Dustin hated guns, believed Black Lives Matter, had queer family and friends, and was kind even to people he didn’t see eye-to-eye with.” A GoFundMe page has been set up, intended as a memorial fund to benefit his son.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Dustin Lothspeich leaves behind a legacy that sets a top bar
Gear and Loathing and sudden death in San Diego
Dustin Lothspeich leaves behind a legacy that sets a top bar
Gear and Loathing and sudden death in San Diego
Dustin Lothspeich, RIP: “He was talented, kind, and thoughtful — the best combo, in my book.”
“Dustin wanted to turn my parents’ dining room into a music room,” says Jen Lothspeich, widow of Dustin Lothspeich, who died unexpectedly of natural causes in his La Mesa home on March 23. “On more than one occasion, he would say, ‘You don’t really need a dining room. This would be a great music room.’ This was before our son was born and before he started eating breakfast at that dining room table every day, of course.” Lothspeich’s bands Bunny Gang, Boy King, Diamond Lakes, and Old Tiger were a firm presence in the local scene, with Old Tiger winning Best Pop Album at the 2013 San Diego Music Awards. KNSD reported that Lothspeich “may have got off the best line of the night when he, while accepting an award for Best Pop Album, told the crowd, ‘First off, we’d like to thank the Heavy Guilt for canceling so we could play.’”
Creative from an early age, Lothspeich possessed a drive and passion that manifested in more realms than the musical, and made an indelible mark on the San Diego scene. His endeavors included the blog Gear and Loathing in San Diego, which delved into the equipment used by his local musical colleagues. Following his death, many of his contemporaries posted tributes on social media, including Josh Damigo, who remembers, “He was talented, kind, and thoughtful — the best combo, in my book.” His love of music made a perfect fit for his work at Vinyl Junkies Record Shack.
Writer Cody J. Thompson recalls that when they met, he was mistaken for someone from Lothspeich’s past. “He told me I looked similar to an old friend of his that he no longer got along with. And he played the entire set glaring at me, pissed that I had the audacity to come in, knowing ‘we’ didn’t get along. Once we cleared it up, we laughed and laughed. It was hilarious to me that he was so angry as he tried to perform, while I sat there drinking a beer, laughing with my wife and friends, making his blood boil.”
The meeting morphed into a friendship that marked a deep life change for Thompson, who was writing a beer blog that was not attracting much attention. Lothspeich offered to be Thompson’s first guest, and the blog eventually morphed into the long-running podcast Beer Night In San Diego. “As a kid,” says Thompson, “my dream was to write. And it was Dustin’s constant encouragement, advice, and belief in me that allowed me to do these things. I remember him telling me how extremely proud of me he was when my first novel was published, and making him proud was something that meant the world to me. He was not only a tremendous friend, with extreme generosity and kindness; he was an inspiration. He will always inspire me, and I will always think of him and hope that he would still be proud of me in the work that I do.”
Lothspeich’s writing for SoundDiego and others leaves behind a body of rock criticism that sets a high bar, thanks in part to his broad range of cultural reference. (An example: the quote from the 1931 version of Frankenstein that introduced his review of The Grave Walks’ debut.) He was also more active in social matters than those who seem content to be keyboard warriors. That activism became more important to him — and to his wife — with the impending arrival of their son, Harrison Atlas.
Says Mrs. Lothspeich, “We went to the protest that preceded the La Mesa riot; I worked in news at the time and was pregnant. It was really something. When the National Guard came to La Mesa after the riots, he drove up to them and said, ‘Try not to kill anyone out here.’ Dustin’s greatest love, of course, was Harrison. We always agreed we wanted to raise a good child who would be kind and respectful to all kinds of people. Dustin hated guns, believed Black Lives Matter, had queer family and friends, and was kind even to people he didn’t see eye-to-eye with.” A GoFundMe page has been set up, intended as a memorial fund to benefit his son.
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