Art is what we use to decorate space, but music is used to decorate time.
I don’t remember where I read this, but I do think about it a lot and I found myself internally repeating it even more this year.
The year that, despite having only just begun four months ago, has already bid farewell to so many of music’s principal contributors; B.B King and David Bowie and George Martin and Keith Emerson and Glenn Frey and Prince and dozens more.
All of them gone. Just like that.
The scores of magical music they created, the fan bases they took years to strengthen, the legacy built with their entrancing melodies left behind as quick as a flick.
That’s it. It’s over.
The finality of it is staggering and immense and takes a while to process.
The actual realization hits after a week or two has passed; when it fully sinks in that there will be no more sold-out concerts or tearful meet-and-greets or frenzied world tours; no more appearances at award shows or red carpets or late night T.V shows. And certainly no more new music.
No more singles or albums or E.Ps or vinyl records.
No more waiting with bated breath as the release day of a new album approaches.
No more living in the constant emotional trauma that they might drop a surprise single while you’re asleep.
No more THEM.
Just… Just traces of them buried in the midst of their musical body of work. Signs of their lives in every play of their breakout hit and every song after it. Hints of their existence in all of their classic, irresistible anthems.
And even though they’re not here anymore, they will come alive –just for a minute or two- every time you hear their lyrics and dance to their songs.
They will be there every time you give their debut album a listen, they will come back each time you lip sync to their no. 1 hit and they will return for every playback of their videos.
To the rest of the world they may be gone, but they will continue to live in our hearts, our music players and in our memories forever and always.
Rock on in Peace, guys. I’m sure you will.