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Friday, 22 April 2016


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True, but aren't the icons dropping like flies just now?

2016 should be remembered as "Year of the icons dropping like flies".

We could have a D&N sweepstake for who's next.

Bugger, not one but many have thought of it already! ...


Seems to be so.

You might not recall the name but the tunes are probably known to you along with the influences and collaborators.

Alas, Whiters, my bad, I know, but I think I only recognised two names in that report.

Mr Prince won't really be missed in our house.
Half of us hadn't heard of him and the one who had heard of him (me) didn't care.

Ever the contrarian (who said "well you got the first four letters almost right"?) I liked Prince. A terrific songsmith and musician, hard working role model.

Of course much, all in fact, of the gushing is highly annoying boilerplate (eg Old big ears and the pope to name but two) but that's the media's fault not poor old Prince.

A fine artist and one who has left the world richer by his existence.

As I commented in a blog to which I contribute:-

We read and hear about, and watch all the tributes pouring in after the ‘death’ of yet another ‘superstar’ of the pop generation. I honestly will admit that, with my somewhat limited knowledge of; as well as interest in; the pop music scene in general, I thought this rather strange clown had actually died years ago. He was listed as being ‘eccentric’, but, there again; it all depends what the ‘fans’ like, (as long as it is understood that ‘fan’ is but the short form of ‘fanatic’).

As I stated before, my interest in this kind of noise which masquerades as music is minimal, with my memorable modern tracks being comfortably counted on the fingers and thumb of my right hand. My kind of music stirs my soul, illuminates the paths ahead, and lifts me into a higher plane every time I hear the majestic tones of the introduction to the slow movement of Beethoven’s ‘Emperor’ Concerto; or any one of a thousand different compositions: but I accept that many others have drastically different ideas about the music which they cling to, and if their choices differ from mine, that is, indeed the ‘Human Condition’.

But please, I beg you, no more bunches of bloody flowers, no more dressing in purple T-shirts in reverent respect of someone who, while possibly having a talent, also exploited it ruthlessly; no more stuffed toy bears, and definitely no more half-empty bottles of vodka, ‘a la Amy’, no more ‘showing respect’ for a man who probably looked upon the fools who worshipped the ground he floated upon as mere suppliers of the cash which gave him the lifestyle he thought he deserved. A talent? Possibly; but the true measure of a man is how he is remembered; and if the outpourings of ‘grief’ are such a measure, he didn’t really stack up at all!

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