In Memoriam

During our annual Music Awards ceremony honoring new crops of winners, we always take a few moments to honor those we’ve lost since we last gathered together. For our 2025 event at Tulips FTW last Sunday, we paid tribute to all of the artists pictured here along with our lone Hall of Famer. Royal Sons’ Blake Parish remembered his dear friend Tone Sommer with the words here.

Tone Sommer was a kind, warm, and welcoming man who left a significant impact on our music community. Tone was a bluesman. He was an incredible guitar player, joining the legendary Fort Worth bluesman Robert Ealey and the Robert Ealey Band in the ’80s and ’90s. They toured across the country, performing in iconic venues like the House of Blues in Chicago and New Orleans and at major festivals such as the Chicago Blues Festival. During that time, Tone and Robert gained fame nationwide and throughout Europe.

Tone also helped Robert Ealey open his blues bar, which has changed names several times over the years. Many of you have known it as 6th Street Live, Lola’s Saloon, or the new home of The Post. Tone was there when the bandmembers signed their names in the concrete on the front steps — a detail many of you have likely noticed over the years. As far as I know, B.B. King wasn’t actually there, but the rest of the signatures are real.

Tone first met his best friend, Danny Ross, while playing together with Robert Ealey. Later, they played at the Keys Lounge and co-founded Playtown, which served for many years as the house and backing band for countless local and touring artists.

He was close with guitarist Tommy Katona, and they shared their sobriety journey, navigating many of the same struggles together.

Tone shared the stage with so many over the years, including James Hinkle, Buddy Whittington, Brandin Lea, Matt Mabe, Josh Weathers, Matt Tedder, Big Mike Richardson, Joe Savage, the Fender Benders, and The Stratoblasters — the list goes on and on.

Tone was known for having a peculiar guitar setup. I’ve heard Big Mike describe it as “nearly unplayable” for anyone else, yet Tone could pick it up and make it wail — like he alone knew the combo to a lock or how to start an old car only he could figure out.

He was also known for his sharp look: a fitted blazer, pointy boots, and cheap sunglasses — the darker, the better.

I had the great pleasure of joining him onstage many times, though not as often as I would have liked. I miss him every time I join the Playtown guys.

Most importantly, he was a good friend, and he is sorely missed. He was always smiling and friendly, always excited about playing music. I know some younger musicians here may not realize who he played with or what an important role he played in Fort Worth’s music history. Honestly, even at 39, it’s somewhat lost on me. But what I do know is you can’t measure the joy he brought to people through his music. We should all be so lucky to be remembered this way for our contributions to this little corner of the world.

We lost Tone to issues with alcohol and mental health — something that should not go unnoticed in the music world. These struggles claim far too many talented people, and this year, they claimed yet another. He left behind a young daughter and a family who loved him dearly, including his stepbrother Brooks [Sommer], who is here tonight to accept this honor on his behalf.

I want to close with a lesson I’ve unfortunately learned too late in Tone’s case: Check in on those you love. Stay connected. Talk to your buddy who might be going a little too hard. You never know when it might be the last time you speak to them. Sometimes, the people who seem the happiest and most outgoing are the ones trying the hardest to conceal a darker truth inside themselves. You might be the one to save them from something you’ll never fully know or understand.

As these special nights onstage blur together, try to hold onto them and the people with whom you share this gift, this passion, this life. Love one another and go forward spreading the music.

Thank you.