Concordia

Concordia Winter 2021 Obituaries

Xavier Stavrou-Long (2013-2019) died on 3rd October 2021 aged 20 D uring one of the countless afternoons Xavier and I spent together laughing, debating,

in the 1st and 2nd movements of Berlin Philharmonic performance … Andante was perfectly paced”, “unironically interesting conversation with two Polish gentlemen on a train” and “I said aloud that there was no surveillance in a particular room in the Stasi museum and a woman suddenly appeared behind us”. But what I remember most is when we visited a beach in Kaliningrad, and Xavier insisted that we swim in the ocean. It was mid-September, the beach was empty, but he was undeterred. Half an hour later we discovered that the thin strip of land we were on had a peaceful warmer lake where sensible people swam; but the rough waves of the Kaliningrad coast are surely a better metaphor for Xavier’s wild side. One of the cruellest things about losing Xavier so early is what was to be. He was determined to do two things – be a leader and have a genuine direct positive impact on the lives of as many people as he could. Xavier had a remarkably, impressively clear sense of right and wrong, and very sincerely thought about how his life choices could make a difference in the world. He could lead a team or, no doubt, a batallion. I recently asked him about his career plans. He replied “probably employment law. Failing that, a cult leader”. He said several times that he is a big fan of absolute dictatorship, as long as he is the dictator. It’s really hard to describe Xavier’s sheer strength of personality. Actually, it’s impossible. Anyone who has had a conversation with him has felt this. The two times he stayed with me in Durham, everyone he talked to came under his spell. Not just at his clarity of thinking but also at his ability to listen so carefully and considerately to others. Xavier was truly my closest and dearest friend from the moment we first met in tutor group. A remarkably kind, generous, emotionally sensitive man, who was always there for me when I was at my most fragile. I would say “Can you help me out, as a friend”. “Always” he’d reply. And listen. And help. Xavier – thank you. Thank you for bringing so much joy into everyone’s hearts. Even though your time here with us has been cut short, you will never stop inspiring me. Your extraordinary personality will forever live on in my memory. Thank you Xavier. I love you and I miss you. Max Kendix (2012-2019)

plotting and philosophising, we decided to write a response to the Head Master’s Assembly that morning. The Head Master had argued for the merits of some of Marx’s critique of capitalism, and Xavier left the hall primed for one of his much loved intellectual rants. It’s so wrong, he said, you can’t just separate Marx’s philosophical arguments from his economic ones – they are one and the same. And some other arguments on Hegel which flew quite firmly over my head. Tongue in cheek and with all the confidence in the world, we asked the Head Master for a copy of his speech, which he surprisingly provided. We sat at computers next to each other, spinning off witty riposte after clever jibe. Then Xavier paused and held his hands to his head. Oh my god Kendix – he’d only ever call me Kendix – have a look at this. On an archival website called Marxists.org, Xavier had stumbled upon an article by Feuerbach. Here, he said, there’s the title of our response: “Critical comments on a reactionary philosophy”. It was perfect. I replied – “mate, you’re a genius”. And he was. He really was. For the past eight years, I’ve been consistently in awe of his absolutely effortless intelligence. He wouldn’t like me calling it effortless, because that diminishes the countless hours he’d spend poring over academic texts, with a perfected note-taking technique, conjuring up new ways of thinking about history. It doesn’t appreciate the careful consideration of each side of a debating topic and how to express it perfectly. And it dismisses how much he put in, every day, to talk to the right people, expand his knowledge, satirise the ridiculous, and shape the thoughts of those around him. But his thinking was just so quick, so sharp, and so original, that effortless still seems like the right word. Even though this is the dimension he showed most in everyday life at Merchant Taylors', there was so much more to Xavier than the genius, and I was lucky enough to experience so many sides to this incredible man. There was Xavier the musician. In the first few years of school, I knew Xavier’s flair, I knew he helped me sing, I knew he had absurdly high music grades in several instruments, at a younger age than

anyone else, and I knew he loved spending Saturdays with a bunch of kids too talented for us mere mortals. But the moment it really hit home for me was when, by chance, I saw him perform to a small hall in Divisions at Merchant Taylors'. I stayed for his cello performance out of sheer curiosity. And I remember I’ve never been so moved by a piece of live music. His five-minute stint at an Informal Concert honestly ranks above the time we watched the Berlin Philharmonic together in front of the Brandenburg Gates. He channelled all his feeling and passion into the piece and I was just in awe. It was this performance that I used to persuade Xavier to run House Music with me. It took a lot of convincing but after seeing just how incompetent I was at coordinating anything vaguely musical, he took over. Three weeks and dozens of rehearsals later, the underdog plucky Andrewes team won House Music for the first time since 1970, with an unforgettable quartet rendition of Titanium . There’s a great and pretty rare picture of Xavier with a huge grin on his face after winning. He didn’t want to admit how happy he was though, not to the Third Formers – that’s a sign of weakness. So afterwards it was just me and the Third Formers giggling about how happy Xavier was. When he wasn’t the musician or the academic, or indeed the military leader or combative sportsman, Xavier had an amazing sense of adventure. The time that this most clearly came into view is when we – somehow – managed to travel for three weeks around Europe and Russia. It was such an amazing experience, but also completely bizarre. Throughout the trip, Xavier noted down various memorable things. Entries include: “slightly limited upper dynamic range

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Obituaries

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