A Tribute To Deathofthesun – Rest In Peace, Warren Binder

[Pictured above: Konrad Kantor (left), Warren Binder (right)]

Here’s a sentiment I’m guessing is shared by quite a number of people out there: I first met Warren Binder at a metal festival, and what I remember the most about that singular moment was just how quickly the two of us bonded.

Last Rites alum and perpetual wild card Konrad Kantor knew that connection would be the case, which is the very reason he made sure Warren and I would meet at some point during that splendid weekend. Know this, if there’s any one thing Konrad loves to do on this Earth, it’s connecting kindred people in an effort to, you know… make life better.

Relevant to that declaration, here’s something else you should know about Last Rites: We are, in fact, much more than a site that writes about music; Last Rites is a haven for like-minded individuals who are, at our very crux, a fully functioning dysfunctional family. We are a tight and rather small cluster with members who’ve been writing together and peppering forums with puns and Morbid Angel album covers for two decades-plus, and we are quite fussy about who gets invited behind closed doors. As you might expect, you couldn’t find a smoother fit than Warren Binder if you searched for a hundred years, and I’m sure his squads outside of Last Rites feel precisely the same way.

You see, Warren was more than just an obsessive music enthusiast—one of the key components shared by all Last Riters—he was an utterly kind, hilarious, bright, unselfish and curious individual in every respect, all of which made him an instant favorite with all of us here at the site. He wasn’t a part of the Last Rites family for nearly long enough, but his impact was as mighty as his record collection, and if you knew Warren…

Very sadly, Warren Binder has shuffled off this mortal coil, and we are less of a family now as a consequence of that tragic event. So, it only seems fitting that we not only pay tribute to the man, but we do so in the words of the person who very thankfully introduced us in the first place, Konrad Kantor.

As for me, I’ll just be over here listening to a prodigious stack of Warren’s favorites, some of which are captured in the photo above.

And universe, you are one lucky SOB for welcoming the esteemed spirit of Warren Binder into your midst. Be sure to ask about his favorite death/thrash albums once he settles in.

You will be missed, deathofthesun.

– Captain

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“I am probably missing something.” The exact opposite statement that most music fans ever want to admit about an album they don’t like. The proverbial, “it’s not you, it’s me,” in and of itself, is an admission of defeat. And we metal fans are as opinionated as we are passionate. We research. We obsess. And, if we’re lucky, we get together a few times a year to share our passions and obsessions with friends that feel very much the same. The older one gets—or I should say, the more one comes around—the less important who or what exactly is being done on stage at a festival or concert seems to take precedence. The banter, the beers, the conversations had and distance walked between stages, all slowly starts to become the sneaky highlight of going out to see live music with friends. If this doesn’t sound like a breeding ground for realizing a lot of your opinions about bands and albums could be wrong… well, you’re correct. Because we love standing by them. Plus, it wouldn’t be nearly as fun if we all agreed on what Sabbath or Mercyful Fate bootleg is the superior one. But if you knew Warren Binder—better known in much of the heavy metal verse as his self-appointed moniker deathofthesun—he certainly made it quite simple for you to second guess yourself. With Warren, it was easy. Because he simply knew more.

But that’s not why I loved Warren. Let’s consider his breadth of knowledge a bonus, as it were. What was immediately striking about Warren upon our first, real life encounter was the kindness behind his eyes. If you knew him, hold that thought right there. If you didn’t, let me rewind, but only slightly. What the hell are two forty-something year old strangers who met on the internet during the pandemic doing meeting up at random festivals when they each already have their own trusted circles of friends? Their own lives! Almost any rational person would ask themselves this, right? Is simply sharing a passion for something enough for lowering the rickety drawbridge of trust to yet another new person calling up to you in the comfort of your own existence, and alongside them, another circle of strangers? I realize we are living in the modern age, and those who know me might even say that I am both as gregarious and also as trusting as they come, but sometimes you have to wonder what it is that leads you to a certain point in life. The point at which someone is up on stage grunting into a microphone, guitars are blasting, people are drinking, and you are standing there slightly nervous about finding a person in a crowd with whom you’ve been sharing albums with for years. And then you quickly realize all of your closest friends already there with you were pretty much discovered by using the same methods.

And then his text comes through. “I’ll be the guy in the blue Astros hat and Running Wild shirt. Glad I remembered to pack sunscreen but forgot my hoodie.” That fucking Astros hat… well, it certainly made it easy to spot Warren for the first time. Telling a guy you’ll be wearing a metal shirt at a metal festival is a bit like saying you’ll be wearing a specific jersey inside a football stadium. Perhaps a beacon of assurance when you go to hug a stranger, but it’s not entirely a fool proof way of being sure you have your guy or gal. But that beat up old Astros hat did it almost immediately. This was during a live set, mind you, so once I spotted Warren I had all the time in the world to do the type of second guessing I explained above. But in that short timeframe, I noticed that he wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention to the stage. He kept scanning the crowd over and over trying to find me. And I sure as hell wasn’t wearing a dusty Astros hat, or any other obvious indicator. He looked a little shy. I knew he was very comfortable with who he was, but I know someone who likes to stay in their shell when I see one, and they aren’t exactly difficult to find at metal concerts. I’d say the majority of metal fans have a tendency to be introverted. But his eyes were longing for the things every human needs. Kinship. Connection. Brotherhood. Sisterhood. Things that seem hard to come by in this day and age, despite all of the mechanisms we humans have developed to supposedly bring ourselves closer to one another. The second I snapped out of it and realized I needed to go and introduce myself to Warren so that he could enjoy the rest of the set without worrying about where I was, the remaining history of our friendship functioned as easy as turning on a lightswitch.

Warren and I shared many lists and recommendations with one another over the years, first during the covid lockdowns, and eventually we would just make them up in-person, without much forethought. I think we both enjoyed making lists and categorizing things, as sort of an addendum to our absolute and dedicated passion to the pieces of music from which the lists were comprised. They could get as periodical, such as our favorite death metal albums of the year; or as pedantic as possible. He once, on the spot, gave me his favorite Eastern Bloc metal albums before 2000. Another time, I was having trouble remembering the name of a Canadian band from the 80s, but I recalled that there was a bluish yellow spaceship on the band’s album cover. He texted me photos of albums with space ships on them for the next few months, always at random times, when I popped into his head. When he finally asked me if the band was Messiah Force (this was in front of about five other Last Rites guys that are metal journalists with decades of experience), I realized that the only reason why it took him as long as it did is because I had given him an improper description of the band’s sound. I honestly think his internal rolodex of music was really just the lubricant that allowed him to think of, and communicate with, his friends at any hour of the day. And let there be no doubts that he knew this rolodex like the back of his hand. The dude was an encyclopedia of knowledge, but that wasn’t what was so impressive about him. There was real passion behind Warren’s knowledge. And coupled with this passion Warren had for music, was the wisdom he gained from it.

His eyes were so kind, but there was so much wisdom behind them. Warren was deeply intellectual, that much was obvious, but getting to know him really allowed me to understand that he had an advanced way of dealing with conflict, and resolving it. I do not think the man ever believed he was beyond reproach, but I have no idea what would have ever upset him because he just seemed to always roll with the punches and stay positive. About everything. And it wasn’t a front. Warren just knew exactly how to remain on stable ground, especially when tackling difficult topics. Upon discovering his passing, it was no surprise to learn that he has two loving parents, a brother, sister-in-law, and niece who all cherished him. College friends. Work friends. Metalheads from numerous continents. Our lives have been dealt a huge void. And the void of his absence will be felt for quite some time, until we all figure out away to conjure up his presence and envision a world in which his smile and knowing gaze is all-encompassing.

Some people look at musical collections, and lists, as a simple hobby, or mere entertainment. In America specifically, it’s not entirely uncommon to have someone ask what instrument you play when you tell them that you are passionate about heavy metal, or music in general. Our society constantly obsesses over the capital value of interests. But there is no way to quantify the value of a well thought-out list of musical recommendations. Hidden in the notes contained within are pieces of emotions that cannot be described with words. I will go so far as to say, for many of us, our lists bear many of the pieces of our soul that we hide away and lock into thousands of little compartments to protect ourselves from the emotional snares and thorns of life’s obstacles. Warren’s many lists, collections, and countless recommendations he gave to people were not just pieces of himself, but rather tokens of wisdom offered to anyone who would listen.

Patience, knowledge, long-suffering, compassion, tenderness. These are moral aspirations for those of any—or no—denomination. They are easily talked about. They are slightly more difficult to demonstrate, or teach. To embody them is another thing entirely, and possessing each of these attributes to their fullest extent is something most people fail to do in a full lifetime, let alone one cut as short as Warren’s. He was too good for this world, but he certainly left it a better place than it was before him.

Give me another forty years, and my knowledge of music will still be vastly inferior to Warren’s. But I am so thankful for all of the subtle clues he left me to help better my understanding of its magic. He did so without pretense or haughtiness. He simply knew more, and never acted like it. And so, to one of metal’s truest heroes, Warren Binder—Death of the Sun—I will now always admit… it is now definitely me sitting here, alone, and missing so, so much.

– Konrad Kantor

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