Stephen English Wilson

A songwriting master, poet, visual artist, nature lover and dear, dear friend -- Stephen English Wilson, aka “Monk,” had an uncanny ability to see, hear, and feel, and to turn all he experienced into brilliant songs. He was an astoundingly gifted artist, songwriter and guitar player whose creative output and sheer genius left all who knew him entranced and somehow changed. Monk was a see-er and a seeker, whose unwavering dedication to speaking the truth as he perceived it touched countless hearts and souls, while also making some people uncomfortable along the way. He always stayed true to his instincts and fully committed to the profound nature of his craft.

Stephen died suddenly on the evening of April 12th from natural causes related to his heart, while walking his dog Lily along the San Antonio River just outside his home in the River Road neighborhood. He was 71 years old.

Stephen persevered like a bulletproof warrior through some serious health challenges over the last seven years which he met and overcame by constantly walking, writing, singing and playing his guitar. Churning out one unique gem after another-sometimes two to three a day- meant for him, living a little more reclusively in recent years. And although he was sometimes accompanied by other great musicians in the studio and on albums, he was quite happy when playing on his own, either on an occasional stage, or more often, inside his home in San Antonio.

Stephen wrote hundreds—really thousands--of amazing songs over his lifetime, some of which can be found on Youtube, Spotify and other channels. But he mainly wrote for himself, as a discipline and as a form of meditation. They were, for him, a pure way of living and learning, and as necessary and natural as breathing. He immersed himself in constant reflection, diligently working hard to creatively express all that he saw, felt, questioned and experienced of the world.

Monk's spoken and written words seemed to beautifully address the heart of whatever mattered, including the raw places that hurt. He saw and incisively cut through all that didn’t ring true, with both a brilliantly bright light and a sharp-edged sword.

Wilson was born on October 16, 1952, to Norma Faith Holmes and Lawrence English Wilson. He grew up in San Antonio, Texas and attended MacArthur High School where he was known for his all-star athletic abilities and physique. Stephen played drums and later learned to play acoustic guitar, gigging with various bands and people as a young man, including his close friend, Daryl Essey. Over many years he developed and played his distinctive blend of edgy melodic Indie folk music and "performance poetry" in coffee houses and at events such as the Kerrville Folk Festival.

In 1987, he left Austin and ventured to Boston for a change of culture and venue. It was there that he found an extremely receptive audience at the Stone Soup Poetry group in Cambridge, which fueled his writing, led to many electrifying shows and created fiercely loyal fans. Monk always felt his sparse, breakthrough recordings from his Boston period including “The Orphan,” and “Raging Monk,” were his life’s masterpieces, including “Bowlingballs and Barbarians.” After returning to San Antonio some years later, with some help from Tangible Records and his good friends, Darrell Scott, Mike Morgan and others, Monk produced the CD “Hillbillys & Gypsies", which included some of the songs from The Orphan and the Raging Monk.

Stephen spent years moving through the streets of Boston and later San Antonio, finding valuable art and objects and turning others’ trash into an exquisite collection. A "great finder,” known for his discerning eagle eye, deep knowledge of art, and his quirky style, he crowned himself with one of his early finds in Boston--a small, weathered red leather cap. He called it his “halo,” and wore it with pride every single day, for many years. Monk initially filled his homes with and generously gave away his invaluable found treasures, but later in 2013, he transformed his extensive collection of objets d'art and furniture into his hugely successful store, called Period Modern, right in his home town of San Antonio. During his seven years at Period Modern, he sometimes hosted live singer songwriter shows in the store amidst the carefully curated art and Cassina, Miller and Eames pieces.

Following a serious bout with throat cancer, he left the store and devoted all of his time to his recovery, eventually returning to full strength and to his writing, playing and recording. In 2019 he released the CD, “Now,” and most recently, in 2021, “Magnified."

After another cancer episode in 2020 and recovery, Stephen continued to write prose and recorded newly written songs daily, even while doing his other favorite activity--watching re-runs of Columbo with his wife, Aimée. A serious runner for most of his life, he always stayed fit and proudly achieved his personal goal of doing 71 pushups on his 71st birthday last October.

Those who were closest to Stephen revered him and could not get enough of his brilliant music. They also knew that he was incredibly funny, had a sweet heart of gold, and was always reliably ready to listen deeply--and to share his helpful and challenging brand of unique wisdom. Stephen’s intense light could at times be eclipsed by his more shadowy, self-protective bite or bark, but his smile, his sensitivity, and devastatingly clever sense of humor eventually shone through most any darkness.

Stephen is predeceased by his parents and stepparents, Norma and Tom, Larry and Birdie, and two of his siblings, Guy and Jay as well as his in-laws, Ron and Caroline.

He is survived by his loving wife and partner of 32 years, Aimée Spana, his constant cat companion Gooch, their dog Lily, his newly adopted garage cat, who he named "Happy," and countless friends and fans who loved him from near and far. Other surviving family members include his siblings, Judy Galuppo and Cleve Wilson, his step-siblings, Paul Spellman and Carol Olson, and his many nieces and nephews, extended family and in-laws.

Stephen English “Monk” Wilson was a rare human being and an uncompromising artist. His companionship, steadfast friendship, infectious laugh, mischievous grin, knowing eyes, honest perspectives, and fresh, poetic insights will be dearly missed. Yet, his prolific and incomparable words and music will be forever appreciated by those who listen.

A memorial in his honor will be planned and announced at a later date.

Lyrics of Monk’s autobiographical song, Bulletproof, ©2020:

He grew up in San AntonA wild-eyed childWho grew to grownHe tried at schoolAnd he died at school

Before he knew it he was out on his ownWhere he joined the Navy to see the worldGot sick of sea sick, seeing the seaSo he asked, let me go, and they said no

So he skipped the ship and hitchhiked homeAnd there he met a girl and he made her his wifeAnd he swears he meant it for all his lifeBut two years later it just came undoneAs anybody knows, it ain’t no fun

Livin' on the edge of anybody’s townHas always got a way of bringing you downBringing you downBringing you do--oownWhere you like to be

So he bought a guitar and he started to learnHow it feels to connect in the places you burnAnd pretty soon he got to feeling like a starSo he took it to the stage in a little bar

And I guess he was cuteAnd I guess he could singAnd I guess he got away with some questionable thingsBut music stayed with him like nothin else wouldAnd after some years he got pretty dang good

Never cared for moneyMoney never cared for heHe could last for days without needing to eatWhile all of his friends they started to riseHe had a hunger in his bellyA hunger in his eyesAnd nothin to show for everything he didChasin songs in all the places he'd lived

You see a dream is a dreamAnd to make it realWell ya gotta have something other people can feelAnd either you got itOr either you don’tAnd either you willOr either you won’tBut what it gave himYou can’t take backAin’t nothin in this worldHe’d trade for that

Like livin' in the edge of anybody’s townHas always got a way of bringing you downBringing you downBringing you do--oownWhere you like to be

Yeah, you see some starsAre just too farTo see at nightTo see in the lightsBut they still shineAnd I think I know whyIt’s just what they doAnd they’ll do it till they die.