It’s been a tough couple of weeks for music fans of our generation. David Bowie, gone to the great beyond. And then Glen Frey of the iconic Eagles. (I was hit hard with the other shocker, Professor Snape, aka actor Alan Rickman, whose musical voice sent shivers and joy down our spines even before Harry Potter made him so widely known.) Others have written about how odd it seems that celebrity deaths can affect us so deeply. But affect us they do.
The swell for Bowie was the most notable. Not many would have predicted that his wildly outrageous art would be so universally loved, appreciated, revered even. Whether conservative/liberal/young/old, he touched a chord across generations and musical tastes. The accolades for Frey hit a different note, not as loud a drumbeat, but deeply felt nonetheless.
Bowie was the original, innovative, and groundbreaking artist that introduced most to
The fact that all were only in their sixties hits us hard as well. These days, we all get used to going to funerals more often than ever, but somehow it should be for our parents and that of our friends, not our peers.
All the more reason, ye Konenkii gals, to “put on your red shoes and dance the blues,” and go find