Well, this is getting a bit tedious - colossi collapsing left right and centre. One a week at least, and at one point back there it was one a day more or less (more o' loss).
Still, on the sunny side, supplies are nowhere near running out. Still a lotta icons, music giants, legends, in the stockpile of the living.
In his later years, my dad was an obituarist - the main thing he was writing was pieces about deceased notables. I wonder if this fate will befall me? Elegies and eulogies are bound to increase as a proportion of the output. Not such a dire fate really - in fact it's a rather satisfying line of work, if usually gruelling (done overnight, mostly). People appreciate them.
(Here's a piece I wrote about the art of the posthumous paean , tethered to the passing of David Bowie, a few years ago.)
Burt Bacharach! What can you say? Such tunes, such arrangements, such wit and elegance.
I appreciate the look of the man almost as much as the music - the sweaters, the hair, the smile, the twinkle.
Burt disliked Love's version, said they'd got the rhythm wrong.