Like family, we are tied to each other. This is what all good musicians understand.—Billy Joel
Beautiful music is timeless, but the musicians creating that music are not
Tuesdays are beginning to annoy me. Traditionally, major music labels drop new songs and new albums on Tuesday, so that is how I plan my day’s soundtrack. Some weeks I hear some really great stuff, others not so much, but that’s part of the joy. This year, however, this 2016, is upsetting that plan. Last week, instead of music dropped that day, I, along with nearly everyone else on the planet, was still listening to David Bowie’s final album, Blackstar. We even wrote about it. Now, this morning, I’m postponing new music once again to listen to Glenn Frey’s last album After Hours (2012). If musicians would stop dying for a couple of weeks, I would be most appreciative.
There are some musicians whose deaths are not quite so surprising. Country crooner Mel Tillis has been in critical condition in a Nashville hospital for several days. Had it been his obituary in my newsfeed, I would have been sad, but not surprised. There are several others, rock stars whose lives in the 70s should have dictated early deaths but didn’t, who I suspect are one good bout of pneumonia away from the grave. But Glenn Frey, man, I wasn’t ready.
What’s frightening, is that Glenn wasn’t the only musician to pass yesterday. Within 24 hours, we also lost Blowfly, musician/songwriter/producer whose work many found offensive; Dale Griffin, drummer for Mott The Hoople, one of those bands you didn’t know you knew;  Mic Gillette, brass player with Tower Of Power, a band that helped define the sound of the early 70s; and Gary Loizzo, lead singer for American Breed, whose Bend Me, Shape Me put them on the charts in 1967. Loizzo was also the sound engineer for Styx, who recorded many of their hits in Loizzo’s studio.Â
Of course, musicians aren’t the only ones who seem to be dying at a heavier rate than usual. If you were paying attention, just this past Sunday I wrote about the high number of notable deaths just last week. What makes a difference with musicians is that we connect them so strongly with their music and their music is so strongly connected to our lives. Music is not just something to keep our ears occupied. Music defines places, memories, and even relationships. Is there anyone from my generation who doesn’t have some memory connected to Hotel California, or Take It Easy? When musicians die, we lose more than a person, we lose a connection to a specific time and place.
One might think music fans would be somewhat accustomed to the unexpected and even untimely deaths of the musicians they honor. After all, the 27 Club, musicians who died young at the age of 27, is legendary; from Jesse Belvin in 1960, to Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin in ’70, Kurt Cobain in ’94 to Amy Winehouse in 2011. The list of club members is long enough that every musician should make a big deal of making it to their 28th birthday.
Even when they don’t die young, we lose dozens of musicians each year. Last year saw the passing of greats like B.B. King, Lemmy Kilmister, Scott Weiland, Alan Toussaint, Cory Wells, and about 60-something others. Each year, we can be sure that the “In Memoriam” reel at all the awards shows won’t be too short. Death happens.
Yet, when they seemingly happen one right after another we’re left wondering just what’s wrong with the world. Music gives our frayed world some sense of sanity. As we lose those who give us music, our world feels a little less assembled. Critical pieces are missing. Sure, we still have the recordings and are thankful for them, but knowing the people who gave us those recordings are gone, that there will be no new albums or concerts coming, creates an abscess we don’t know how to fill.
So, here we go with another Tuesday emersed in memories. Glenn Frey left us more than enough to fill the day and enjoy every minute. We are thankful for everything he gave us.
But seriously, musicians need to take a break from dying for a while. Please.
When The Fairy Tale Ends
Happiness is like those palaces in fairy tales whose gates are guarded by dragons: we must fight in order to conquer it.—Alexandre Dumas
Not every day is a good one, nor should we ever expect them to be.
One of my dear friends, Jane, whose birthday I missed yesterday and who writes a most wonderful blog, frequently reminds her students that the versions of fairy tales they see presented by Disney and the like are not true. When Hans Christian Anderson wrote The Little Mermaid, he justifiably kills his title character at the end; that’s right, the little mermaid dies. In the original telling of Cinderella, the evil stepsisters have their eyes plucked out. The tales penned by the brothers Grimm were bloody, vicious and violent. Why? Because such stories were meant to be cautionary tales, warnings against dangerous, self-centered, and inappropriate behavior. Life is not fair, the stories warn, and happily ever after is a myth.
This week has been a painful reminder of just how unhappy life can be. People we have admired, who have entertained us, who have sacrificed for us, who saved our lives, have passed on. Not just one or two people, as we are rather accustomed to hearing, but several people of some noteworthiness, have left us. Here’s a partial list, in case you weren’t paying attention:
All those people, gone in the span of seven days. There were more, of course. Many died whose names are not so familiar to us. On Friday, a terrorist attack on a Burkina Faso hotel left at least 28 dead, including an American missionary. All around the world, in every hospital in every city, families gathered as loved ones, some old and suffering, some never really having a chance at life, moved on.
So much for a fairy tale with happy endings. This week seems to have gone out of its way to show us that there is no “happily ever after.” Even the lives that seem the most wonderful and glamorous, those who appear to have everything in the world going their way, still die.
What, then, shall we do when the fairy tale is over? When we have run out of tears to cry and are weary from mourning, how do we face this incredibly cruel world? Any good reader should know the answer to that question. When one fairy tale ends, you start another. Tragedy is the platform upon which the foundation of comedy arises. The ending of one story, or one set of stories, prepares us for the beginning of the next.
Yes, it is true that even the next story likely ends with its main character’s demise, but every story is worth the telling. There are lessons to be learned even in the most heart-breaking situations. We do not stop here. We keep going.
I have been distantly following the continuing saga of Cory and Joey Feek, as have millions of others. I’m not going to sit here anre pretend that I was ever a fan. I’m not big into contemporary country music, and until their lives took a tragic turn I’d not even heard of them. Now, it appears that Joey’s story is nearing its end. When it does, headlines will focus on the love of a mother for her daughter, and a husband for his wife, and many will share in their grief. What’s important is that we realize that there is a story that goes onward. Their daughter, Indiana, is just beginning her story, even as her mother’s is ending.
While it is easy to become emeshed in the stories of others, however, we must remember that we are the ones writing our own stories. While our tales may be entertwined with those of others, we are ultimately the authors of our own fates. Even in circumstances where we might not have control of when or how our story ends, we still decide through the way we live and the decisions we make whether our fairy tale is tragic or happy.
2016 seems to be getting off to a very rough start, but perhaps this is this universe telling us that we need to focus more on the future, not the past; that we should focus less on the lives lost and more on those still living. Not that we don’t remember those who have died, but we realize that their passing is but the end of a chapter, not the whole book. The fairy tale is not over. There is so much more to be written and it is up to you to do the writing.
Share this:
Like this: