We Are the Dead

Paul Kantner - guitarist
March 17, 1941 - January 28, 2016


Prince Be (Atrell Cordes)
May 15, 1970 - June 17, 2016


Leonard Cohen
September 21, 1934 - November 17, 2016


Sharon Jones
May 4, 1956 - November 18, 2016


Dave Swarbrick - multi-instrumentalist
5 April, 1941 - 3 June, 2016


Alan Vega
June 23, 1938 - July 16, 2016


Bernie Worrell - keys
April 19, 1944 - June 24, 2016


George Michael (Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotu)
25 June, 1963 - 25 December, 2016

Phife Dawg (Malik Izaak Taylor)
November 20, 1970 - March 22, 2016


David Bowie (David Robert Jones)
8 January, 1947 - 10 January 2016


Prince (Prince Rogers Nelson)
June 7, 1958 - April 21, 2016

Extempore #5: Paul Hester

Not long after Mark Linkous' suicide this year was the 5th anniversary of the suicide of Crowded House drummer Paul Hester. Every time I see the odd bit of footage, I can't help but think how obvious it was that he was in trouble. He just seemed too happy, as suicide victims often do. Hindsight is 20/20 and I'm not saying anyone in particular failed him, but it's just a shame.

RIP Mark Linkous

This is pretty close to the top of "things I hoped I'd never write". Just days after announcing that his Dangermouse/David Lynch collaboration Dark Night of the Soul would be physically released this year, Sparklehorse leader Mark Linkous, the man who survived death once, has committed suicide. I'm not into discussing what music means to me, but I didn't put Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain at #16 and It's a Wonderful Life at #19 in my Top 50 Albums of the Decade for shits and giggles. Vivadixiesubmarinetransmissionplot and Good Morning Spider would fare very well in a list of my top 50 albums of the 90s.

Linkous' suicide eerily recalls that of Elliott Smith, similar not only in method, but in its sudden yet definitive nature. He made literally the most life-changing moment a person can make in an almost instantaneous way that can't be taken back. It was apparently set off by a text message Linkous received while his judgment was compromised by alcohol, which just compounds the seemingly random nature of the whole thing. What if he hadn't been drinking? What if he'd talked to his friends about it instead of wandering off alone? What if he'd had his fucking phone switched off? These questions are pointless to ponder, but I have to. Maybe it's my lack of exposure to death; only one friend and one close relative of mine have died. Neither committed suicide and I've only met one person who did. Death is not something I hope I ever get used to.

The mortality of rock musicians never ceases to amaze and sadden me. Sometimes I think I should just give up and listen to pop music, but for a while there even Britney looked as though she might not last.