What happens when rock 'n roll dies?
George Harrison's passing tipped me off that what seems like a bad lyric from a Lenny Kravitz song is an actuality that isn't too far off. A whole generation of rock stars - the real kind, the pioneers who started it all - has long gone gray. They're fading, and not the prophetic "fading away" by any means but literally fading. Mick Jagger croaks his way through a solo album. Paul Simon sings on his last album, "I'm old." Billy Joel, as we all well know, has decided to chill out and play Bach. Time has been friendly to legends like these, and as of yet they've far from disappeared, allowing our generation to get a taste of the real thing. But as the years pass, their swagger becomes a little less defined, their edge dulled by age and by new times - times that don't need rock music to provide an outlet for rebellion. There's plenty of other ways to do that.
The rock 'n roll generation is beginning to trickle, and it's a scary thought. Is it inevitable that their music will disappear with them? Does it really have the power to last forever?
We certainly think so, but we're also certainly biased. Harrison's death, although not fully unexpected, has served as a reminder to many as to how damn cool the Beatles are and how damn cool music has the capability to be. The band's sound has persevered for the 30-plus years since the group split. The Beatles penned the songs that everyone knows the words to without really knowing how - they're woven into the world's collective consciousness. Only a few other rock musicians fall into that category: Dylan, possibly Simon and Garfunkel, and the Stones, to name a few.
And so now only two living Beatles remain. When John Lennon was shot over 20 years ago, it was almost a morbid, tragic storybook ending to his life - Lennon was not the type to sit idly by as he faded away. He left making a statement of peace, punctuating the lyrics of his famous songs. For everyone alive at the time, this made his death almost surreal in nature. The music took on a new meaning, and it infused itself into our generation.
On the other hand, Harrison's death is tangible, real, and scary in a whole new way to the generation of fans that grew up with the Beatles: fans that are his age. He has quietly - sticking to his character - slipped away. And it's easy to overlook, what with the state of our country right now. Lennon's death made the colossal impact that it did mostly because of its violent nature, but also partly because the world had yet to fully emerge from the fog of the '70s and '80s. Our parents' generation mourned the loss of a hero and then passed their music onto us. It has become embedded in our lives. But Harrison's death really has very little impact on the children of the world. They have their own heroes, flashier heroes and - it's hard for us to comprehend - possibly heroes that they respect more than the Beatles and the like.
Pretty soon, we'll be having kids (good God!), and our teaching of the classics will be just a little less intense than the treatment we received - after all, we have our own current bands to support. Then their children might not even have the Beatles in their immediate consciousness. Is this inevitable? Or do the Beatles, and other groups like them, have the power to overcome technology and flash and gimmick to remain in music forever?
Hopefully. But because if these bands don't, then who will? Imagine the state of entertainment 40 years down the line. What rock music, from our generation is going to persevere as legendary? U2 is the only band that really comes to mind, one that manages to cross all lines of age and genre. I'm not saying that there are so few innovative or good bands around, but that bands that can collectively cause an entire world to rock and can bring together people the way music of the '60s and '70s did are practically nonexistent. There are too many types of music, too much to choose from; there's too much catchy crap.
Because there's still a strong awareness of the classics, and the legends still live (and thrive) music hasn't completely turned sour. When they, unfortunately, are gone, hopefully these newer bands won't fill their shoes because rampant popularity might falsely take the place of quality.
Last Friday afternoon, I ran out of my apartment, late for work, and neglected to watch or read the news. On my walk home later on from Davis Square, an SUV passed by, blaring "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" at an inhuman level. Cool, but weird, I thought. Five minutes later, another car sped by, treating passersby to "Here Comes the Sun." The day was cold, gray, and dreary, and most people were in a bad mood. The sun was nowhere to be found.
Yet when we woke up on Saturday, without Harrison but with one of the most beautiful days of the year, Harrison's lyrics echoed in my head throughout the day. My apartment played Beatles albums - one of the only forms of music we can all agree on - and reveled in the pure joy of the music. There really is nothing like it.
Hopefully, 40 years down the line, people will be able to appreciate this as well.
