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On Sept. 20, Chad Gilbert, founding member and lead guitarist for New Found Glory, died at the age of 45 after a battle with brain cancer. Mark Hoppus, the co-lead vocalist, co-founder, and bassist of Blink-182, got to know Gilbert over the years, both on and off tour. Hoppus, himself a cancer survivor, talked about Gilbert about the disease, but their bond ran much deeper. Hoppus remembers Gilbert in this exclusive tribute.
I always thought of Chad Gilbert as my little brother.
I don’t remember the day we met. He and a bunch of his shithead friends used to come to every show Blink played in Florida. I mean EVERY single show. These dudes would hang out and ask questions and show us the good spots to eat. We hung out every time Blink rolled through Florida. And Chad was always…smiling. Just the happiest, most enthusiastic “fuck yes, life rules” music-loving son-of-cock you could ever hope to meet. Fucking. Laughable. Like, calm down, man, we get it. He ruled.
At some point I learned he was in a band called New Found Glory and they had an album out on Drive-Thru Records (which was the style at the time). It ruled. I couldn’t stop listening to it. I played it for everyone I knew. I played it for friends and labels and radio stations. I begged our management to take them on. They signed to our label and our managers took them in as clients, and friends. Blink took them on tour.
Over the next few years, Chad became a big part of our lives. And every time you’d see him, Chad was just smiling. And happy. And excited about something: a new band; a video game; some fuckin’…TOY he found on tour. I don’t know. That was just Chad. Calm down, man.
On Blink’s tour for Take Off Your Pants and Jacket, which New Found were on, Chad rode on the bus with me and my wife a lot. Like I said, he was my little brother. We talked a lot on the long rides. And Chad broke down a bit. In amongst the success of his band and radio success and everything else, he was feeling lost and unsure of himself. He was sad. In the middle of all that, he was sad. We laughed and told him to shut up, and the next day filmed the “First Date” video where we rode waterslides and Chad threw the baseball bat into the girl’s bicycle spokes.
But those hours and talks and bus rides really showed me who Chad was. A fighter. A champion of joy. “Joy” sounds weird but that’s what Chad was. Fucking. Joyous. He was the guy who sincerely smiled and laughed and loved to see and meet new people. And listen to music. Joy. Whatever negative thing was going on, Chad was going to say fuck it. And fight it. And face the world and celebrate. Every day. That’s how he was every time I saw him. It was fucking exhausting. Okay, man. Jesus Christ, calm down, we get it.
Chad and I have been friends ever since those early days of van tours and punk rock. We’ve both had our ups and downs. I worked with NFG on their 2009 Not Without a Fight album, and the band were at a strange point in their career. There was a tension in the room that seemed deeper than normal studio creative buzz. That tension boiled over more than a few times. There were shouting matches which eventually calmed down and Chad would say, “Okay come on let’s do cool shit.” And show up the next day smiling and laughing and ready to go.
For a long time, Chad kept trying to get me to play this Disney card game that was like Magic: The Gathering but with Elsa and Olaf? I don’t know, it was weird. But that was his shit.
These past few years, Chad and I texted a lot about cancer. Updates. Prognosis. Methodology. Medical terminology and rates of efficacy. There was hope for one treatment and after weeks and months that one would fail. But then they’d try a new one that was supposed to be better. And that would work but then there was a different tumor. It’s scary. It’s hope and despair and fear. But throughout it all he was always so positive. I mean, did you SEE his Instagram posts?! He’d be lying in a hospital bed with tubes coming out everywhere with a smile on his face like he’d just won the blowjob lottery.
The last time I saw Chad was in Nashville. Somehow, fittingly, at a Blink show. It was the last night of the tour so it was hectic backstage. I was packing up everything to get shipped home the next day, saying goodbye to everyone on the crew, Luke Combs was there (?), and that night my wife decided to adopt a dog. Rushing down the hall I turned and there’s Chad: “Holy shit! Chad! What’s up man?” He looked weak. He walked with a cane. He hugged me and introduced me to his family. His wife and daughter. They’d all been through so much. More than anyone can imagine. Or should ever have to. But he was so…happy. For real. Happy. Glad to see everyone. Glad for his daughter to see everything. Proud. Content. Grateful.
The cancer treatment was working so he was hopeful for a good outcome, but they’d found another issue. “Ah shit, Chad, I’m so sorry.” “Mark, don’t worry about it! This one’s gonna work!” We said our goodbyes and I looked back to see Chad waving and smiling his joyous smile. God dammit. I miss you already, little brother.
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