As years go by

As different as Stiv Bators and Jeff Buckley were from one another the dates of their untimely passing are only 7 years and a handful of days apart. Bators died in Paris after being hit by a car on June 2nd, 1990; Buckley drowned in the Wolf River on May 29th, 1997; both just 10 years apart in age at the time of their death. They’ve been on my mind the past few days and it’s made me consider the emphasis placed on a rock and roll artist’s legacy and how it seems that we rock fans have always had our eye on the past.

Thanks to American Idol a few years ago, Buckley’s cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” saw a great deal of interest and I was glad to see this happen. I don’t know whether or not his album “Grace” stuck in the consciousness of people who downloaded the single but I hope it did. I’d hate to think his ultimate legacy is just of a tragic figure that gained lasting notoriety after his death because of a TV talent show. We only have one full studio album and a variety of studio, live and demo tracks to play “What if?” with Buckley’s legacy, which gives the man and his work a fragile nature.

I still remember when Stiv Bators entered my consciousness around the summer of 1982. The Dead Boys had already broken up and The Lords of the New Church were his new band. Between the Dead Boys album “We Have Come For Your Children” and his wildly fun performance in “Polyester”, Stiv was iconic and seemed to be proof positive to me that there was another world out “there”, waiting for me beyond my small town upbringing.

Finding albums and learning about non-mainstream performers was not an easy task for me and millions of other kids who were of my age group and didn’t grow up in an urban area. Buying new albums meant a 30 mile drive to the closest record store and if they didn’t have something it meant getting them to special order it or going to mail order firms that advertised in the back of Rolling Stone. I used to order from the mail order firms whenever I could afford it. The Dead Boys were someone I did order.

Besides having the thrill of the chase in finding these albums there was a necessary need to actually learn about who was out there recording albums, and learning about the artists of the past who had helped bring rock to it’s current place in time. It wasn’t enough to simply know who inspired the flavor of the month; you had to find the source, of the source, of the source of inspiration. Then you had to pick what would give you the definitive sound of the originator based on what you had read across various sources and buy it. Most of that stuff was way too expensive for a 1980’s teenager wallet but as time passed we all found our way to it; sometimes by trading tapes, a friend’s collection or at used record stores.

Earlier this year I heard Buddy Holly’s music described as “quaint” while his legacy was discussed on the 50th anniversary of his death. The description gave me a chill and it seemed unfair to summarize his groundbreaking creations as nothing more than quaint. When I hear the word quaint I think of pot-bellied stoves and buggy whips and not of the positive and secondary definition of quaint, I don’t think I am the only one who feels that way. Buddy was one of those originators I felt compelled to seek out a quarter century ago, luckily it was in the midst of a rockabilly revival and I was totally fascinated by him and his music.

Being a fan of a musician makes you a kind of gatekeeper of information. Some people will pass by and smirk; thinking your taste in music is horrible. Others will stop and listen to you; some become converts and some will echo your thoughts. As I get older I wonder more and more if the legacy of an artist relies not only on the work but also the loudness of the fans of that work long after the artist has disappeared. Changing tastes in music and the unpredictable nature of what becomes hip in hindsight plays a part. Regardless of how it works I think it’s safe to say that talking about the artist and their work keeps them alive for the next soul who stumbles upon them.

Maybe we should all talk less about what’s wrong with the music industry today and more about what was once right about it. Namely those who came and went; scorching our minds and hearts as they passed.