DECEMBER 8, 1968 – MARCH 9, 2020

By Kristin Thomson, March 15, 2020

Bryan R. Dilworth, of Penn Valley, PA, passed away at 1:15 AM on Monday, March 9, 2020, struck down way too early by a pulmonary embolism. He was 51 years old. 

Bryan was born in Wilmington, DE in 1968, the first son of Bob Dilworth and Kathleen Zerbe (nee Coen). He grew up with his brothers Shane and Joshua, and step-sisters Michele and Tracey, just outside of Newark, DE. It was in his teens that Bryan’s love of music started, and music was the catapult that shot him into so many different orbits. From working in the local record shop in Newark, to playing in bands like Radio X, hanging out at the college radio station, carving decoy ducks with Mark McKinney, washing dishes at the Deer Park, there was always music. And skateboarding. And shows. It was this love of music that led him to Philadelphia, where he grabbed the brass ring with both hands.

Bryan moved up to Philadelphia in about 1990, convincing some other Delaware boys to move with him. Always a hustler (and proudly never unemployed for even a day in his adult life), he worked at bars like the Irish Pub and Copa, as well as with Todd Cote at Rave Records. This was when I first met Bryan, over the phone. Jenny Toomey and I co-ran a record label called Simple Machines in Arlington, VA, and Rave was both a label and a distributor. Bryan would buy records from us, but he was probably buying them more frequently than they needed, just so we could talk on the phone. At the time I was working at the National Organization for Women in DC, and the receptionist Francine would page me on my desk phone and say, “Kristin...it’s BRYYAANN!” She was in on our blossoming crush. It wasn’t until Tsunami came to Philly to open for Superchunk at JC Dobbs in January 1992 that I met him in person. He told me he’d be wearing a baseball hat. As soon as I saw him coming up the stairs at the show, I was head over heels in love. And every day since then, we had been together.

Listing all of Bryan’s favorite bands would be impossible. Growing up in the 1980s, he embraced the smart new wave, punk and alternative bands: The Clash, Kinks, Elvis Costello, Psychedelic Furs, REM, Husker Du and, especially, The Replacements. But his music palette was enormous and deep: AC/DC, Van Halen, Black Crowes, Prince, The Beach Boys, Public Enemy, The Band, Rolling Stones, Chet Baker, Pretenders, Joe Jackson, Tony Bennett. But he wasn’t just hitting play: he also read the liner notes, he knew the names of the studios, sidemen, producers, songwriters and labels. Listening to Big Star, we’d just hold hands and weep at the profound beauty. I was his September gurl, he was my December boy.

By about 1992, Bryan was booking shows full time at the Khyber Pass in Philadelphia. It was the place for indie bands to play in Philly, and a glance at the monthly calendars from that era show that his instincts about bands and music were unparalleled. Any given week would be jammed with bills that are now legendary, and there were many times when we could be at the Khyber five nights in a row. Bryan’s usual station was back in the corner, near the girl’s bathroom, surrounded by regulars and friends. It was upstairs at the Khyber – in his office on the third floor – that we picked our wedding date off his paper desk calendar: May 13, 1995.

The mid-1990s were incredibly busy. In addition to booking shows at the Khyber, Upstairs at Nicks and Upstage, Bryan was also in two bands. He was in my favorite – and definitely the loudest – version of Lilys, which included the three-guitar attack of Art DiFuria, Mike Lenert and Kurt Heasley, with Bryan on bass and Dave Frank on drums. He was also in the metallic-robed Gelcaps with Doug Anson, John Boothman, and Kevin Morpurgo. He was also running a record label called Compulsiv, which released about 30 singles and CDs from 1992-1997, working with bands like Crain, Caterpillar, Hobart, Strapping Fieldhands, Bardo Pond, Zen Guerrilla and Stinking Lizaveta. Later, he was drafted as the tour manager for Rocket from the Crypt from San Diego. Working with Rocket put Bryan’s formidable skill set into service: he was the negotiator, the wrangler, the taskmaster, the rounder-upper, the problem solver, the gatekeeper, and the accountant for an eight person crew for multiple tours. He also became lifelong friends with the entire Rocket family, especially Paul O'Beirne, whom he loved like a brother. By the early 2000s, Bryan was touring less, but had taken on a new role as a manager for Valsalva, LaGuardia and Burning Brides, helping each of these bands break new ground.  

It was his instincts and his long-standing relationships with booking agents all over the country that allowed Bryan to help many bands – and himself – move up from the 150-capacity rooms to places like Upstage, North Star, TLA, the Troc, and sometimes even bigger: the Tower, Electric Factory, the Academy of Music, and The Mann. He was honored to work with Larry Magid and Adam Spivak as part of the Electric Factory team, and helped to usher in the new relationships between EFC and Bowery Presents. He operated in a much more complicated, frustrating and high-stakes version of concert promotion in the past 10 years, but he cared so much about doing right for the bands and the venues that he doubled down on the work, even when the numbers got really big and the competition got very intense. He continued to foster and strengthen his ties with booking agents, managers and bands who had successfully moved to the bigger stages. He knew it and said it all the time: In this business, relationships are everything. 

Bryan was a phone guy, which became more obvious in recent years as more of the concert business moved to email, dashboards and digital agreements. But it was often much faster and more effective to hash out a deal or fix problems on the phone, especially when tone and delivery mattered. For him, the phone was also used to keep in constant contact with friends and family. Even if he was walking a few blocks by himself, he’d call one of the 1270 contacts so he wouldn’t be alone. And his contacts and text threads show just how wide he cast his net. He was part of a years-long text streak with his Delaware friends. He was part of a text group with about 20 Philly friends that only talked about the Eagles and fried chicken. He was constantly fielding calls from friends who wanted guest list spots, or to meet up, or hang out, or seek his advice. And he and I talked multiple times during the workday. In fact, over the past 28 years, even through heavy international tour schedules or intense business trips, there were only a few days that we didn’t speak at least once. And every call ended with us saying the same thing to each other: “I love you.”

Here are some other things that Bryan loved. 

He loved babies. When a friend or family member had a new one, he’d hold his arms out robot-like and wiggle his fingers saying, “Bring me the baby.” Babies loved Bryan.

He loved Sopranos, The Wire and Mad Men. We must have watched all of them at least two or three times from start to finish. He also loved The Godfather I and II (after that – nope), Jaws, Star Wars IV and V (after that – nope), and Goodfellas. Bryan was hilarious, and we had an inventory of one-liners that served as a secret language between us. We had multiple inside jokes about The Shining and Simpsons references, and I can still hear him impersonating Quint while sneering, “I’ll getcha, sharkie!” 

Bryan loved to gamble. Not in a sad quarter-slot-machine-for-hours type way (though he wasn’t against spending some hours at Sugarhouse or nights in AC); he was more interested in beating the odds in sports, especially football. Sure, he was part of a few fantasy football leagues, but he was more invested in the outcomes of real games. He followed the lines, the players, the trades and the records. But Bryan also loved a more localized version of gambling: he played poker weekly with a bunch of guys, and was always up for a game of threes, whether on a bartop or at someone’s picnic table, wherein Bryan would relieve you of all of your ones. Fergie had some dice made for him that had his face on the winning side. Five Bryans was the best roll possible.  

Bryan also loved Scrabble. Of course, we have many versions of the analog game at home, from the standard table top to a travel Scrabble that went on many band tours. In recent years, Bryan had the Scrabble app on an iPad, with 4-6 different remote games going at all times, as well as frequent pass-n-play games with me or with my aunt Kay whom he saw on family trips. He usually logged in late at night to toss down some new 40-pointers in an ongoing match. He was a master at the double stack words that got points in two directions. It was hard to beat him. 

Bryan loved Gettysburg, PA. More specifically, he loved visiting the Gettysburg Battlefield and taking tours with the guides who could recount the three days of bloody Civil War action while driving through the picturesque farmland. We visited in the summer of 2013 and Bryan bought the “take your own driving tour” narrated CDs at the gift shop. Perhaps he just didn’t get around to switching things up in his car stereo, but we listened to that narrated tour for months. We returned to Gettysburg just a few months ago with our friends Sal and Federica, and Bryan was delighted that the tour guide for the day told a completely different version of the battles, narrating in a rather morbid fashion about which generals got shot in that apple orchard, and whose leg was amputated over near that barn. I think he loved Gettysburg because it was a fantastic case study of military strategy, as well as a turning point in US history that happened so close to where he grew up. 

Bryan was a night owl. Clearly, this fit well with his job as a concert promoter, but his body clock was definitely on a 10 AM – 3 AM schedule. He loved hanging out at the bar with friends long after last call, or watching TV late into the night, but he was just as often making offers or dealing with shows way past midnight. In recent years, his job as a talent buyer for much bigger venues meant deals were more complex and involved many layers of approval. He put his broad shoulder to the grindstone every day to make sure he didn’t let an opportunity pass, even if it meant fixing offers at 3 AM.

Bryan loved Philly sports teams. He was a life-long Phillies fan – our closet is filled with baseball hats and beanies – and was so excited when they won the World Series in 2008. But he was equally supportive of the Eagles, Sixers and the Flyers, as well as Villanova and Temple basketball. His cousin Micah is coach of the Neumann-Goretti high school basketball team, who are having a good season. In recent weeks, the team had an away game in the playoffs. It was going to be a long day for the team. Without a travel budget, they were planning on driving to the game and then back home to Philly afterwards. Bryan paid for all of their hotel rooms so they could be at their best. Now they’re set to play in the finals.

Bryan also loved Philadelphia. He was a city booster, always happy to take people on tours of his venues, down to Pat’s and Geno’s aka “Cheesesteak Vegas” (with proper ordering instructions), or past the Liberty Bell, or around to any of Philly’s amazing restaurants and bars. On the first night we met in person in 1992, he was in the car with Tsunami, heading from JC Dobbs to his house in the Art Museum area when he pointed out the exact position you’d need to be in on the Parkway from which the William Penn statue on the top of City Hall looked like he had a hard-on.

Bryan had a gruff saying – “No more new friends!” – but he did a bad job of honoring that. Bryan loved his friends, and he had hundreds of them. Some he had known since being a skinny teen in Delaware, others he’d brought into his world in just the last few months. In Philly, there were overlapping circles. Many were friends that he met because of music, whether they were in the crowd, at the bar, or onstage. But there were just as many that he met through his shared love of sports, or through the network of restaurateurs and bar owners. Though I’m sure he never thought of this this way, his friends represented a true cross section of American entrepreneurship, sports, politics and culture: there were tattoo artists, car detailers, NFL players, radio personalities, professional soccer players, writers, rock stars, architects, food critics, t-shirt printers, real estate developers, caterers, carpenters, actors, engineers, clothing designers, lawyers, professors, and elected officials. For Bryan, these weren’t relationships of convenience, or a side benefit of being proximal to fame; his friendships were real and lasting. He was generous with his time, his connections and his resources because he wanted to help. He gave them advice, or connected them with people who could assist. He supported friends’ new projects. He got friends out of jams. He helped some overcome significant hardships, in a quiet quest to see his friends be happy and prosperous. His most magnanimous gifts were often given off the books, with no need for any public announcement or expectation of return. 

Bryan was also a leader and a mentor. He took his role as “boss” seriously, and thought often about how he could be a better leader. There is no college course or YouTube channel that can teach anyone how to be a concert promoter; Bryan was a great judge of character and a mentor for emerging talent, and he advocated hard to make sure people he trusted were hired to fill key positions within his world. 

Bryan loved his huge family. In addition to his parents Bob and Kathy and brothers, Shane and Josh, Bryan had a step-mom, Sue, and a step-dad, Craig, two step-sisters, Michele and Tracey, one step-brother, Ryan, and two adopted sisters, Alex and Melinda. He also had ten aunts and uncles, and dozens of cousins, who had their own spouses and children, the majority scattered between Elkton, MD and Brooklyn, NY. Bryan was a magnet for the family, the oldest son and oldest grandson on the Dilworth side. We hosted a Christmas eve party every year, during which Bryan would demonstrate yet another remarkable skill – the ability to prepare food for a huge crowd. Not once did he miss the mark, burn the roast or curdle the cream. Bryan was a generous host, and so quietly proud that we had the means to provide a place for his large and loving family to gather, without fail. 

Bryan loved Riley. He loved Riley so much. Our only son was born September 5, 2002 at Pennsylvania Hospital. Bryan was by my side in the delivery room, our eyes locked in pure love when he was born. Bryan was the one who suggested his name; he said it just came to him while he was sitting at the Khyber one night. I just loved it and we quickly agreed that, no matter what, that would be the baby’s name. We had decided early on we’d wait to find out the baby’s gender, because “as an adult, how many more surprises can you get?” He frequently urged friends who were expecting to enjoy the same surprise as us.

Riley is now 17, and Bryan was there at every stage of his journey from infant to young man. Riley’s diagnosis of autism at the age of 3 required us to learn a lot and embrace a new type of parenting, but we pledged that we would do anything -- ANYTHING -- for Riley. Friends would probably classify him as a “cool dad” because of his cool job and cool friends, but the exemplar part of Bryan’s role as a father was his unwavering support of Riley, which included constant conversations, guidance and advice. And it shows. At 17, our tall and skinny Riley is kind, focused and funny. He’s a thoughtful friend, and a reliable worker. Bryan got him a job washing dishes in the catering kitchen at The Mann last summer, and Riley intends to put on the apron and rubber gloves again this season. Most important to Bryan was helping Riley navigate the teen years to have the social and practical skills to make his way in the world. In recent weeks, he had taken Riley on some college tours, but the thought of Riley moving out of the house was really hard for Bryan. He loved Riley so much that he really didn’t want him to go too far away. For Riley, the feeling was mutual.    

Finally, Bryan loved me. He loved me truly and deeply. And I loved him with all my heart. Bryan was my first real boyfriend, and the only man I ever loved. He taught me everything I know about being a partner. He was so smart, so open, and so caring. When we met, I was in a touring rock band and lived three states away, and even after our marriage in 1995, there were many weeks where we were physically apart. We wrote postcards to each other on tour and talked on payphones from the side of the road. We trusted each other implicitly. He would never have stood in the way of my success, and I would never have asked him to follow me at the expense of his own ambitions. 

We are so lucky that we never let our trust in each other waver, since I think it gave us both the freedom to be ambitious and bold. And I was so proud of all he had accomplished because of his drive and his intellect, as a promoter, as a record label owner, a musician, a band manager, a restaurateur, a board member for charitable foundations, and as a community leader. He worked SO HARD to do right by the bands, the venues, and his friends and family. So hard. We were set to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary in May (maybe a short trip to Montreal?). Not a lot of couples make it that far, and even fewer can say something that is absolutely true for us: we never had a fight. We trusted each other implicitly, and talked multiple times a day. Every phone call and every departure from the house we told each other: "I love you." Bryan, I will always love you.

Bryan Dilworth passed away on March 9, 2020. He is survived by his parents, Bob Dilworth and Kathleen Zerbe (nee Coen), his wife Kristin Thomson, his son Riley Dilworth, and many family members. I hope we can all take what we learned from Bryan during his time on this earth and be generous, smart, and funny. The world was enriched by his remarkable life, so let’s carry that brass ring together.

Ways to Honor Bryan

Virtual Gathering | Celebration of Life | Donations in his name

Bryan Dilworth, longtime Philadelphia concert promoter, has died at 51
Dan DeLuca, Philadelphia Inquirer
March 11, 2020
https://www.inquirer.com/life/bryan-dilworth-concert-promoter-aeg-obituary-20200311.html

Chicken wings, life, and friendship on the table at my final lunch with Bryan Dilworth
Craig LaBan, Philadelphia Inquirer
March 11, 2020
https://www.inquirer.com/food/craig-laban/chicken-wings-life-friendship-table-my-final-lunch-with-bryan-dilworth-20200311.html