Let it be known that while this year has been an good one on a personal level, 2016 will forever be the year marked as when fate had a hard on for smiting good and classic artistry. It would seem so many of the artists from both music and film that we have cherished so dearly, that would appear so eternal through their work would be plucked from us unceremoniously. Ranging from David Bowie all the way back in January to the extremely recent passing of His Royal Badness Prince, this is the year the arts have suffered hit after hit as we scramble to process the loss of so many unique luminaries in the fields of music and movies. I mean look at this list….
Angus Scrimm (from 80s horror series Phantasm)
Glen Frey (guitarist for The Eagles)
Maurice White (Earth, Wind and Fire)
Dave Mirra (Bmx enthusiast)
Harper Lee (author of To Kill A Mockingbird)
Tony Burton (Apollo Creeds trainer from the Rocky series)
Tony Dyson (designer of R2-D2)
Lemmy Kilmister (Front man of Motorhead)
Erik Bakersfield(Admiral Ackbar himself)
Joanie “Chyna” Laurer
I dare you to read over that list and not feel a twinge of sadness permeating throughout your emotional core. So many of these talented men and women have left indelible marks on what we view as quality entertainment. These are people we just as quickly assumed would be around forever and ever because they are the Titans of their chosen fields. Crafting characters and composing songs that loom large over everything that has come before and will come after.
I get there will be a certain collective of people that don’t understand why we mourn the passing of celebrities that we’ve never actually met, but I wager to guess there’s a very good reason why we do. It is through their craft that we often find our own identities. Whether you listen to Space Oddity or Little Red Corvette and find that those words speak to you in the moment with which you find yourself in life. Or watching people breath life to a fictional character that in many ways exemplified your own personality quirks and flaws. When celebrities and artists pass away, we mourn and are riddled with sadness because even though we didn’t create the art, we are the vessels with which the memory will live on long after their corporeal bodies have expired. A lot of times we struggle to find the proper ways to express ourselves. Not everybody can be gifted with the ability to convey to the outside world the emotions and feelings that dwell within. So rather than strain to create something ourselves, those people seek solace in the art of others. A song in a recording studio or performance in a movie created on a million dollar sound stage can take on a huge emotional significance to the right person. So when that particular artist dies and is no long able to create the art that has allowed us to seek refuge in the most emotionally rocky of times… we lose a bit of ourselves in the process. Despite these works being created and mass marketed to the widest possible audience, they still remain deeply personal to some and that’s why loss on any level whether it be a relative or someone who has inspired you on an artistic/emotional level is always going to be tough to deal with.
That’s why I’m convinced whatever ethereal energy that governs our planet really must love hate fucking the shit out of our emotions right now. To see so many pillars of the community of the arts to crumble and fall in such a short period of time is very disheartening. Sure these bastions of good music and film will forever live on in memory of what they’ve left behind, but knowing that we will no longer be able to create new memories or have them guide us through the myriad of new problems that we face every day. That makes this a truly dark day indeed.
2016… You can officially go fuck yourself with a poison filled cactus… Sans lube