With a full horn section and keyboards, the Hypnosonics was a larger outfit than the three-piece Morphine but, in keeping with Sandman's signature style, there still wasn't a guitar in the house. Not even a bass with a full set of strings.

By the third or fourth song, Sandman was clearly in his element, looking very much the part of a Tom Waits nighthawk-cum-Chris Isaak crooner and sounding like the sexiest man in all of New England. That's when my girlfriend whispered in my ear, "If you were a rock star, I think you'd be like him." For a woman not easily impressed by fame or fortune or rock stars or me or really much of anything, this was the nicest thing she could have said to me. It was a fantastic concert and an unforgettable evening, lit by the cool, smoky charge of Seņor Sandman.

On July 5, my girlfriend and I were driving down the New Jersey Turnpike. Morphine's "Candy" was playing on a public radio station, which put us in a good mood because you just don't hear the eclectic guitar-less rock band on the dial much. The song finished and the DJ came on: "That's 'Candy,' in honor of the late Mark Sandman who died this weekend. Viva Mark Sandman."

Sandman suffered a major heart attack during the second song of a concert in a small town outside Rome, and died on the way to the hospital. He had been reciting the lyrics to "Mona's Sister," a song from his pre-Morphine canon, in Italian. He had always been guarded about his personal life and specifically his age, so many were shocked to learn he was 46. On stage he'd seemed 10 years younger.

Little information has emerged about why his ticker gave way, though old friend Russ Gershon told the Boston Globe that 20 years ago Sandman was stabbed in the chest while driving a cab, which could explain a frail heart.

Unlike others who've eulogized Sandman (and done so eloquently), I haven't been drinking beer with him since the days when he did a weekly gig at the Plough and Stars, the bar down the street from his Cambridge loft. The devastation I feel is that of a fan. And while I can listen to his discs over and over, it's a lousy feeling to know that I'll never see Mark Sandman onstage again.

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