Fiona Mitchell

musician and campaigner

24/9/68 - 26/7/99

July 1999 saw the tragic death of Fiona Mitchell, possibly the most talented person ever to tread the Crude Apache stage. In the following days many paid tribute to Fiona but perhaps the most telling of all was the immense diversity of people who attended the memorial service at St. Andrews Church in Gorleston. It was only then that one could see how deeply she touched the lives of those she worked and played with. The vibrancy and commitment she brought to all she did was an inspiration.

In all the years she gave to this life never did anyone have anything but praise and respect for her. Above all she died with an undiminished commitment to furthering our tolerance and understanding of those who suffer with mental illness. If we take nothing else from her death, she would surely have wanted us to remember this. We have lost a remarkable person and a great force for good.

Goodbye Fiona, you will be truly missed.

Read 'Tribute to a 'star' musician' from the Eastern Daily Press of August 1999.

Fiona and I had attended the same school in Great Yarmouth, but she being a year or two above me, and more importantly, an attractive woman, we of course never met. I was first introduced to her in 1993 at a mutual friend's house; the only time I ever saw her seriously ill. Fi was in the throes of one of the manic phases of the depression that plagued the second half of her life. During a two hour meeting, we struggled to get a word in edgeways, as Fi detailed impossible career and life plans that were to guarantee her fame, fortune and musical world domination. My over-riding memory was of how rational it all seemed, how enthused she was, how inspired. It didn't seem such a bad illness at all; this mania. A little eccentric possibly, intense certainly, but ultimately harmless. I was hopelessly wrong, of course. I was soon to learn that what goes up, must come down, and in the case of manic depression, the downs are very, very low indeed.

But thankfully, my over-riding memories of Fi are not of her illness, but of happiness, laughs and the mutual joy of performing that we all had. Fi was already an accomplished musician before she joined Crude Apache and brought her talents to one of the first pieces I saw her perform: Miss Whiplash at the first C.A. event, I believe. She played sax and sang in a lusty tale of bondage, whips and a perverse Member of Parliament. (Was there custard involved ?) Anyway, she had very tight colourful leggings on and I remember certain parties being somewhat transfixed. (I shall mention no names). Later, in Tumland Tales, the 1996 summer show, she played a variety of parts, sang, narrated and shouted as hard as the rest of us in the best outdoor show, in my opinion, that Crude has ever staged. She was a revelation. That was a great summer. My proudest moment is being invited to insult her endlessly in front of family and friends at her and Amanda's joint 30th birthday, as Lionel Strangley Brown, my oleaginous, letchy alter ego. She took it like a trooper and I was secretly tickled pink when I discovered that her screen-saver image was of dear old Lionel himself.

Fi was always supportive of myself and Owen's exploits, and I still have the card of congrats that she and Amanda sent us, when we'd received a glowing review. Her career and life seemed to have reached a happy balance in the months before her death and her illness seemed to be under control. Her drive and enthusiasm for her music and other projects was intense and away from the mania that had clouded her judgement, she proved able to juggle and succeed in more fields than most of us would ever be able to take on. The last time I saw her was when she came to see our Edinburgh preview at the Norwich Arts Centre. She seemed happy. She was wearing a yellow coat. She wished us luck and said she'd see us when we got back.

Two weeks later, we dedicated our first Edinburgh show to Fi. It was the day of her funeral. I dreamed of her just before we left for the festival. She was walking through a shoe-shop closed for the day, I called her name, she turned, smiled and waved before disappearing for ever. I'm glad that the last time I saw her, she was happy. God Bless Her.

Fiona appears briefly in the DVD of Tube Tales (see the Eastern Daily Press article of May 1999), a collection of 10 short films based around life on the London Underground. Each story has a different director and Fiona is seen playing the Saxophone in 'A Bird In The Hand' (directed by Jude Law) and 'Rosebud' (directed by Gaby Dellal).

Visit the official Tube Tales web site.

Fiona Mitchell

musician and campaigner

24/9/68 - 26/7/99

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