Sunday, September 10, 2006

The Last Song

It occurred to me today just how many dead guys I have on my iPod. All those Ramones, bless 'em, and Warren Zevon. John Denver's on the list, as is Johnny Cash. Steve Goodman keeps the company of Freddie Mercury, and Buddy Holly reminds me of the day that music died. I've even got Robert Palmer telling me how he's addicted to love, since now he's not so addicted to breathing. The Who count for just a half, but it was their whole rhythm section that went to the great gig in the sky.
This opens the discussion I was having in my head as I mowed the lawn: I wondered what it must feel like for those folks left hanging around here on earth while the lead singer decided to take a dirt nap. Kurt Cobain was where this musing began, as I listened to Dave Grohl sing, "This is the last song
That I will dedicate to you
Made my peace, now I'm through
This is the last song
that I will dedicate to you."
Bitter? Confused? Hurt? All of the above? Probably not because he feels any lack of artistic or monetary fulfillment. Foo Fighters continue to bash it out with five major label releases and have earned the distinction of being one of David Letterman's favorite bands. Still, the specter of Kurt Cobain looms large, especially as Courtney Love continues to milk her extra fifteen minutes of fame from the ghost of Nancy Spungen.
Then there are the remaining Beatles. What will Paul's legacy be in another ten or twenty years? Ringo's place in pop culture will be safe simply for providing the blueprint for "goofy marries beauty (Barbara Bach)" that has been followed so carefully by Lyle Lovett and Chris Robinson. For the record, Ringo and Barbara are still married - sorry Lyle and Chris. Paul could have been dead, but now it's George and John who are heralded on high.
Which brought me back to Kurt Cobain, the Grunge James Dean. Imagining a world with a fifty-something Kurt Cobain is just a little unnerving. James Dean was too fast to live, too young to die - almost. In the meantime, Eddie Vedder continues to brood about the Pacific Northwest like a rock and roll Sasquatch, waiting for the revival of the Seattle sound.
"This is a sound
The here and the now
You've got to talk to talk to talk to get it all out
I listen, I listen, I listen."
- The Last Song by Foo Fighters

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